See You on the Flip Side
by sweetprincipale
Summary: Sequel to Sex and Candy, set in S.5. Months have passed since Spike and Buffy had a one night stand. An upsetting event makes them consider turning to each other again. Can a second time prompt deeper realizations about themselves? Short, smutty, Spuffy.
1. Chapter 1

See You on the Flip Side

By Sweetprincipale

_A sequel to Sex and Candy. Set during S. 5 At the very end of episode "Fool for Love?" and deviates in the midst of it._

_Author's Notes: Short, smutty, Spuffy. I do hope you like it, I just needed a little break from my larger projects and thought this would make an interesting distraction._

_Direct quotes from songs and shows are obviously not mine but belong to the enormously talented people who created them. _

_Dedicated to Hannah the Bloody, Lithium Reaper, Idiosyncratic Delusions, and Msnycegirl0820 _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part I**

It had been a bloody stupid idea to begin with. He never should have bedded down with her, even if it was only for one night, even if it was the best he'd had in a very long time. No, he'd done it 'cause he was savin' the kill for later. _The flaw in your plan, Spike, (aside from her, which went without sayin' ) was that you should have made sure you'd be _able_ to kill her soon afterwards._ That meant being back on the vamp game. He'd tried! Tried very bloody hard to get the soddin' chip out of his cranium so he could do the job, end the temptation.

Because she was a temptation. He worked against her every chance he got, and then it seemed he started working with her just a little bit more than was strictly for personal convenience. Hangin' out around her place sometimes. But only for that intoxicatin' whiff of her. And it was just lust, only a temptation, that made him have that bloody awful nightmare where he said "I love you". And it was because the last time they'd deliberately spent time together at the Bronze that he'd ended up fucking her brains out back at her place afterwards, that now, here he was, sitting on his ass outside the Bronze, money all over him and feeling very- upset. Upset was a good word.

"Shouldn't have opened up at the end there. Made it perfectly clear that she was to do the persuin' if she ever wanted to go down the path to madness again, and I just about beg for it." He muttered. But she was all riled up, blood pumping, and yeah, she was turned on, he could sniff that. Easy to forget unspoken rules.

They had promised never to speak of the one night. And they never had, not in all these months. Months! Never even exchanged a wink and a nod over it, about how they'd already seen one another in all their glory. They both still acted like she was Ms. Blonde and Faithful, and when he did make an innuendo at her, it was so smutty and blatant, no one even dared to think that he might be speaking from experience. They were truly well matched, on the battleground, in the bedroom, in the deception game. Yet tonight, goading her, reminding her, with his little hint, "Come on. I can feel it, Slayer. You know you want to dance.", he'd forgotten the rules. Oh, she went higher than holier-than-thou. She went straight up to saintly.

It was because she asked for his soddin' life story, churned up all the emotions about Dru, an' Cecily, his victories with Slayers, an' he considered ownin' her sweet little body, even for one night, a victory second only to killin' was he was still sittin' on his ass, tears pricking in his eyes.

But he knew how to calm himself down. Don't think of all the fights they'd had, all the side by side they'd shared. Think about her lyin' to him, to his face, here when they were alone. He heard that mincing little voice in his head as clear as if she was still sayin' it to his face. "Say it's true. Say I do want to. It wouldn't be you, Spike. It would _never_ be you." She'd pushed him, right to the ground. They didn't do that, not here, not alone. It was respect, y'see, two skilled liars, two skilled warriors, with a little truce for this evening. He'd told her the truth, minute details even, about how he'd killed the other two, an' she'd had the stones to scream an untruth to him. Damn her.

There. He looked up, wallowing done. Rage back inside him. Kill her. So it wouldn't be with style. It wouldn't be with dash, a flare, a final battle that gave them both a spectacular chance for death and glory. That was a shame. But he had to end this. Now.

* * *

><p>She stomped home, taking her frustration out on the sidewalk. Okay, lying to everyone else, pretending nothing had ever happened between them, that was fine. That was her one justifiable pass. She'd had one night of meaningless sex (explosive, orgasmic, best EVER sex) with Spike, after finding out that everyone she was close to, mother, Watcher, boyfriend, and her two best friends, were unable to tell the real her from the Faith-inhabited her. And Spike had seen in it ten minutes.<p>

Riley had slipped up, slept with her body, bearing someone else's soul. So she'd let Spike make her body and soul feel better, take the pain off, give her, oddly enough, a sense of self. Because he knew her. Her stupid, annoying punk rock reject knew her better than anyone else in the world. And they'd made a truce. He'd kept it.

So lying to him- well, he was a bastard that she should kill immediately. But she didn't, so lying was okay. No, it was lying to herself that hurt. And, dammit, yes, lying to him made her feel bad. Saying it didn't was only one more piece of self-denial.

She took the night apart. Why was she mad? Oh yeah, the little lies had been building. First, when Jonathan had cast a spell that made her seem like sidekick girl instead of hero girl, everyone willingly went along with it. Only Spike treated her like a threat. Not like a little tag along teammate. Even under a spell- he knew her. And then a few weeks ago, with Riley, it had almost slipped out. He thought he needed super powers to keep her. She said if that was what she'd wanted, she'd be dating Spike. She didn't want to date him. No, God no! But sleep with him again, when her idiot boyfriend showed his usual lack of perception about her, yeah, she'd wanted to take Spike up on his offer, give him a call, tell him to come in the window of her bedroom, and she'd toss her stake right out of it. Fair trade. One hard object for another...

Even that wasn't the worst. Tonight was the worst. Blatant lying and criticizing him. She was repulsed by what he said, saying the blood of the Slayer was an aphrodisiac... that he got off on it. That was wrong, and disgusting, and thoroughly of the bad. But when she had been with him, when she'd had her most powerful, mind-blowing, spine raking orgasm ever, what had he been saying? She replayed it in her mind, reliving it, trying not to go weak just at the memory.

_"Even if you did stake me, Slayer, think that's the way we're gonna go, Luv. One day I'm gonna punch my fangs through your throat and suck you dry, hold you tight, watch you do your final dance, in my arms." _

_ She gasped at his words, and her mind spiraled. Shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be about to cum when he's telling me how I'm gonna die... But her body didn't agree, and she began her descent. And his voice just kept going._

_ "Or you're gonna shove a piece of wood through my heart, and I'm gonna shower you with dust." He'd started to release inside her. "And I'll still be all over you."_

_ "Spike. Spike!" A broken scream and a final plunge. Just like he said._

She didn't get off on the kill. But him doing it, or her doing it to him- it'd be the best she could hope for in her line of work. And when he was inside her, whispering it to her, yeah, she'd gotten off on_ that_. Maybe he was right about what he'd said tonight. How he told it like a story, so good with his words. Not like the dry accounts in the diaries. He spun it, he pulled her in. Because maybe she heard the truth underneath?

_"Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp. That look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know: What's it like? Where does it lead you? And now you see, that's the secret. Not the punch you didn't throw or the kicks you didn't land. Every Slayer... has a death wish. Even you._

_The only reason you've lasted as long as you have is you've got ties to the world... your mum, your brat kid sister, the Scoobies. They all tie you here but you're just putting off the or later, you're gonna want it. And the second- the second- that happens... You know I'll be there. I'll slip in... have myself a real good day. Here endeth the lesson. I just wonder if you'll like it as much as she did."_

And he offered a substitute. Because they both knew, _knew_, they weren't able to give each other that death wish tonight. He'd offered a substitute. Something that had eased their pain before. She lied to them both. That even if she did want it, that other, almost equally forbidden wish, she'd _never_ go to him. God, it was so wrong, but it was such a lie. She'd _only_ go to him. He wasn't beneath her at all. He was her equal. They lived on two sides of a coin, exact opposites- with a scary recognition of one another. Oh, God.

* * *

><p>She got home, felt dirty, felt sore, emotionally pained from her unsettling realizations, physically pained from her stake wound (not administered by Spike, but by some two bit vamp with a mohawk and BO, with her own stake! Now <em>that<em> was beneath her).And mentally exhausted, because, well- slayer suckage.

_But there's no rest for the owie girl with the weight of the world on her sore but fashionably attired shoulders. Back to being a good daughter._

"Mom! I made that grocery list." She walked into her mom's room. Then she noticed the suitcases. Her mom asked something about conditioner and she answered reflexively. Then, "Mom? Where're you going?"

Her bad day got worse. "Oh, I was hoping to put this off but... you know the nothing that I've been dealing with the last couple of weeks? It might not be nothing." Her mother gave her a wan smile, a brave smile.

"What is it?"

"I'm staying overnight at the hospital for observation. I'm getting a CAT scan."

Scary words. Scary words, that took her own speech away. She stared stupidly. _You can't be sick. I need you, even if you don't know who I am, even if you don't like who I am, you love_ me.

"It's only one night and they say even if there is something, it's still very early if they didn't see it before. I'm going to be fine."

The reassurance game. She could play, too. And she needed to. It had to be fine. "I know you will." She hugged her tight. _Please be okay. If you're not, I don't know how to fight this. How do I fight a headache? Headaches. CAT scans. Tumor. Cancer. Debilitating disease. None of those are in the slayer handbook._ "C-can I do anything tonight?"

"No, Honey, I'm fine. Actually, I'm better than fine. They gave me some pills and I took two. In about ten minutes, I'll be out like a light. The doctor said, and I quote 'Five of these babies will knock out a rhino.' Two of them just makes me pain-free and sleepy."

"Oh. Okay, Mom. I-I'll come with you tomorrow?"

"Oh yes, Sweetie, would you? And keep Dawn with you?"

"Of course, Mom, whatever you want." She pressed her lips to her mother's temple, willing whatever caused the pain to leave.

"I'm gonna turn in, Buffy."

"Good night, Mom."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

><p>She checked on Dawn. Sound asleep, head resting on an open journal, pen tucked in her sprawled hand. Good. She couldn't deal with her questions and demands right now. She made it to the back porch before she broke down. Headaches. CAT scans. Tumor. Cancer. Debilitating disease. Mom. <em>Not my mom! Take me instead, God, please, it should be me. I'm the one with the deadly calling. She owns an art gallery. She should get paper cuts and pulled muscles from lifting packing crates, nothing more than that, ever.<em>

* * *

><p>He found it, loaded, still ready for use. A gun. How-<em>human<em>. How mundane and unsporting and utterly, utterly beneath him. But that was the point, yeah? Put her beneath him, six goddamn feet under him. If only his current creature comfort, emphasis on creature, would stop her soddin' yappin'!

"Okay, I'm trying to be supportive here so don't drive a stake through my heart like last time, but you can't kill Buffy. She's the Slayer. She is_ so_ gonna kick your ass." Harmony followed after him as he prepared to leave the crypt almost immediately after returning to it.

"I've got two barrels here that'll prove you wrong." He was dismissive. He was always dismissive of her. She was arm candy, a substitute for what he should have, his dark goddess, his Drusilla.

"I knew you'd take this personally. You are so sensitive! How are you going to kill her? Think! The second you even point that thing at her, you're gonna be all _arghhh_!"She clutched her head.

Spike could've killed her then. How dare she bring up the fucking chip? She'd been his second, the one to watch the doc remove it, and she'd been fooled. Watchin' the soddin' operation, an' she'd been fooled! But she wouldn't shut up. He really should have killed this one, or at least made good his threat and rip her tongue out. Vamp powers were remarkable, but limb and organ regeneration once the part was removed wasn't one of their abilities.

"And then you'll get bitch-slapped up and down Main Street unless she's had enough and just stakes you!"

_Let her stake me. I want her to. If I can't have her, then she can bloody well have me. At least I go out with someone worthy, not by some stupid army goon, but by a proper slayer, the best I've ever seen, best there ever would be. A legendary death._ Unless he settled for giving her a mediocre send off. He hoisted the gun and grabbed the girl, jerking her out of his way. "Sure, it'll hurt like hell for about two hours...But she'll be dead just a little longer than that." He heard her gasp of pain but took no pleasure in it. No pain tonight, but the Slayer's, only wanted to hear her gasps. Actually, he'd have settled for her gasps of pleasure, but no, she had to be a lyin', degradin' _bitch_. He threw her away hard. A throw away girl all around. Buffy's what he wanted.

"Fine! But don't come crying to me when you fail. You couldn't kill her before you got the chip. You had plenty of chances!"

He didn't bother with a reply. He knew the reasons. They were his own, and no one truly knew them, not even Dru with her barmy visions. It was respect. The longing for a fair fight. One on one, both of them at the peak of their powers. His third Slayer. She had to be the best, the jewel in his triple crown of battles. They'd just never had the chance. But he was tired of waiting for it. Shouldering the gun, he strode to her house.

* * *

><p>She was still sobbing uncontrollably when he got there. She felt him before she saw him, but she knew he couldn't do more than insult her, glare at her, maybe tell her some more unwanted truths, that she would only deny. And then she heard the metallic click.<p>

She looked up. Shotgun. Wasn't it? She didn't speak gun. Now if it had been old fashioned and made of wood... She wasn't even scared. "What do you want now?"

Brave until the end. Had to admire that. He put his finger on the trigger, and wondered when the chip would fire and why it hadn't already._ Not because I can't kill her. I fucking can._

Buffy watched him aim at her, hard features even harder than usual as his finger deliberately moved._ Why aren't I scared? Do I want it? Do I want that look of peace so badly? What about her "ties" to the world?_

She had tears on her face. Oh bloody hell, the last time he'd talked to her with the tears runnin' down her sweet little cheeks he ended up in her bed, misplaced comforting (oh no it wasn't that. It was mutual gratification. He hadn't cared if she felt better, had he? No, he'd just cared if she came, that was a bit different.) Yet he still heard himself asking. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She couldn't. It hurt to speak.

_I can't care about her, can I? No. But I guess I can be curious._ He lowered the gun slowly. He did feel something for the girl, that misplaced sympathy. The grudging respect. Oh bloody, buggering hell, his mouth was going again."Is there something I can do?" She looked at him, helpless grief in her green eyes, swallowing hard. He could smell the pain in her. And it was delicious. Then sickening. He couldn't hurt her now. His enemy was not looking out at him from behind that brokenhearted face. He crept up beside her slowly, gun aside. Hands empty. Not gonna hurt you, he was tempted to say, but that was not strictly true. Gonna bloody kill you- but I'll wait 'til you're feelin' better. A smirk flickered and died without making it to his face._ One of us has to be on top of our game when we go out, either you or me. I'm helpless by default, she's helpless in this damn sea of tears. No one dies right now._

She was shaking, and the tears kept falling. She was wrapped in silence. His hand found its way to her back, and patted her awkwardly. Patted again. And again. In silence.

* * *

><p>She came out of herself slowly, dimly aware of a weight, not a warmth, just a weight, on her shoulder blade. A steady patting. He's trying to comfort me. "I'm sorry."<p>

"No problem, Luv, you cry." He said automatically.

"I'm sorry I said you were beneath me. I'm sorry I said it would never be you. You were very honest."

"Tryin' to shock me to death?" Spike responded with a harsh laugh, completely blown.

"Whatever works." She put her head further into her hands, almost to her knees.

"What happened, Slayer?"

"Mom's sick."

Two words, and the bottom dropped out of his plans. Well, he'd known it would happen, hadn't he? Plans, plus slayer, equals soddin' great cock-up, and not in the pleasurable way.

"Joyce is sick?" He'd seen a bit of her in the last few months, not much, but they'd bumped into each other a few times. Not just on slayer business, either. He stopped to buy his smokes and get his bagged blood, do a bit of robbery, and two or three times she'd been workin' late at her posh little gallery. They both liked to get coffee at the place next to the mini mart. Never anything much, they never spent more than ten minutes, and she did tend to watch him warily. That might be why he liked her so much. She still regarded him as a threat, she treated him with respect, not someone crippled. _Hell. Did I just admit I like the lady? I respect her. I admire her. Sod. I do quite like her. And if I respect and admire Joyce, and I respect and admire her daughter... oh no._

"They think so."

"Sick how?"

"Bad headaches. She- she needs a CAT scan."

_Headaches. Brain issue, bound to be. Or eyes. Or sinuses. Most likely brain._ If only he'd been able to taste her, he could've told- wait, how the bloody hell was this workin' out in his mind?_ You taste somethin' off, you stop, do a bit of diagnostic work, and save the Slayer's mum?_ Well, yeah, alright, he coulda done that. He had no quarrel with Joyce. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing. There's nothing we can do." Her shoulders convulsed again.

"Shh, Slayer, you don't give up so quick, do you? They can do plenty these days with modern medicine. Look at me, I mean, not a good example, but look at the type of brain surgery they did on me. Pretty damned effective, an' I'm dead."

"N-not helping. Shut up." He obeyed, for once, and resumed patting her rhythmically. "Were you gonna kill me with that?"

"I was gonna try. Knowin' you, it wouldn't've come off." He gave her a half grin.

"And now you're being all nice?"

"I am not nice!" He jerked away like she'd burned him. "I have a bit of respect for your mum! You remember when we-" He stopped. They didn't talk about it. Not even with each other, as they'd proved so well tonight.

"You were scared of her."

"Respectful! There's a difference. I like your mum, Slayer. She's got class. She treats me like a threat."

"She has trouble with vampire basics." Buffy sighed. "Only my mom would invite Dracula in but be afraid of Billy-Chips-Ahoy-Idol."

"Oi! I've still got the soddin' gun here!"

"I know." She looked at him. "She does think you're a threat, but she kinda likes you I think. Or at least she feels bad for you. With the Dru thing."

"She always asks after my love life when I see her."

"When do you see her?"

That was a slip. "Round the shops. Nothin' major, don't do a freak out right now, alright, Slayer?"

She paused, drawing inside herself."What if they can't fix her?"

"You like to head right for the bottom of the glass, Luv." Spike told her, slightly amused.

"Whatever _that's_ supposed to mean."

"Your glass isn't just half empty, it's bloody dry, an' probably cracked as well. It could turn out to be a bad sinus infection! A blocked tear duct or migraines! Could you wait 'til tomorrow's tests to panic? She'll probably be jus' fine." She offered him a tiny nod. "Jus' like her daughter, yeah?"

"You don't believe that, do you? You know me. Bad stuff happens to me."

"Bad stuff happens to me, too, you know. Look at this farce. Me an' my mortal enemy."

"_I'm_ the bad stuff that happens to you? _You're _the bad stuff that happens to me!"

"Am I? Oh, Slayer, you do care." He joked, mockingly flattered. He lit a cigarette and blew a halo of smoke to the side.

"If something happened to her-"

"Back to the bottom of the glass, I see." He chuckled.

"And then something happened to me-" She trailed off, twisting her fingers nervously.

"You worried about the bite-sized one?"

"Do _not_ call her that." Her eyes blazed, and he relaxed. As long as the anger was somewhere inside, she'd be okay.

"You got mates. They'll look after her."

"They're not strong enough for what's after- us." Buffy hastily covered. Spike cocked his head.

"I got no quarrel with your mum, nor the little one. Only you. And your mates, yeah. The boy. The Watcher. Iowa-boy. The girls- actually, I rather like the girls in your group." He hastily covered. "Not that I'd hesitate to sink my fangs into their ripe little necks given the chance."

She sighed. Unspoken agreement hung heavily between them. The girls, her family, were safe-ish. Especially her mother. Thank God.

"You wanna call your bit of Apple Pie over? Have him come for the comfortin' bit?"

"No." She scoffed, and covered her mouth hastily. Spike smirked but hid it quickly. "I mean- no."

"No?" His smirk returned. "You two havin' a little tiff? A little lovers'- I mean, _likers' _quarrel?"

"No!" She protested. A shade too much, and he knew it. "No... there's all this stuff. On my mind. He doesn't get it. He thinks I'm shutting him out."

"And aren't you?"

"Shut up."

"Am I ever allowed to say _anything_?" He grumbled.

"Not when it's true." She finally whispered. He looked taken aback. "No. That's- go ahead. Say what you want. You like to hurt me, right?"

"Yeah, Pet. Love to hurt you." He admitted. His hand tightened on her shoulder. "But we both know I can't."

"You do okay with your words."

"Hey. The truth hurts, Baby."

"You know what, Spike? You wanna hear some truths? You will never, ever kill me. You say you have all these big reasons, you say you'll slip in, get me on a 'good day', you say you'll wait, 'til you're better, or I'm better. But it isn't that. You can't kill me."

His anger burned and he reached for the gun. And stopped. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why can't I?" His voice grew stronger. "An' why can't you kill me, Luv? You got a list of reasons as long as mine. I helped you. I'm defenseless. I'm your informant. You've been off your game, I've been off mine. But what's the real reason?"

"I-I don't- that's not true. I just- it's wrong to kill something that can't fight back."

"But I've done it. Don't you want to avenge all the sweet little innocents I've eaten? Isn't killing me your sacred job description? Or is it simpler? You liked fucking me so much you can't bring yourself to do it?"

"It's none of those." She stood, and he did, nose to nose.

"No, no, it's nothing so simple, so basic." He reached for her cheek. "You know exactly what it is. Why we put it off, why we lie."

"If you even_ think_ of saying you love me..."

"NO!"

She regarded him, startled._ Oh, damn..._

"No. No, it's not that." His voice was calmer. "What you see in me- you see in yourself."

"Two sides of the same coin." She whispered unthinkingly.

"Not exactly."

"You see _me_." Buffy regarded him stonily.

"I showed you myself. In that story."

"Like calls to like..." She quoted an earlier conversation. A conversation from that night.

"Tired of playin' this game, Luv? You want _out_?" His voiced dropped to a bare wisp, smoky, raspy, his hand leaving her cheek, sliding down to her neck, digging one finger in softly.

"Say it's true, Spike. Say I do want out." She pierced him with her green depths. He tensed. Eyes hardened, he thought she was about to replay the words she'd said earlier, the lie she told. " Maybe I do want it. But it would only be you. It would only be you, Spike." _He's my death wish. And my insurance policy. He can't kill me. I won't kill him._

She was intoxicating. Waves of pain, and desperation, and grief spurred passion. "An' I can't give it to you." He licked his lips. How perverse. Wrong in the grand scheme of things, but how perverted for him. How rebellious, how dark was this. Slayer admits I'm her ticket out, and I'm closed for business. "Sorry, Luv." Their eyes remained locked, and she breathed onto his perfect white skin, cool to the touch, warming him more than the smoke, this sweet steam she generated. "You know I've got the next best thing."

She nodded, throat too tight to speak. Guilt, grief, and lust, all choking her.

"You know what the French used to call it?" Voice dropping even lower, lips now against her ear. "What they say about givin' you pleasure?"

"What?" She breathed out in confusion.

"When you cum. It's _la petit mort_. The little death." Lips snagged her lobe, he dragged his words out slowly, caressingly.

"Spike. All my stakes are at home." She pulled back and looked at him meaningfully. That was the deal. If she ever wanted it again, _she'd_ invite _him_. And his request? She was to leave the stakes at home.

"No good, Slayer. We're_ at _your home." He grinned, just to mess with her. The words were all figurative, finding the Slayer without a stake would be like finding Jack without Daniels attached. And besides, that was half the thrill. Knowing she could kill him, and wondering how the hell he'd get out of it when she tried.

"In that case- I left them all someplace else."

"Good." He smiled wickedly. Then frowned. "Your mum. I don't wanna upset her. No, I'm not sayin' it out of self-preservation. If I gave a toss for that I wouldn't be hintin' at shaggin' Duster of the Year. If she's not well, I-"

"She's- she's on pain pills." Buffy leaned against the porch frame suddenly, arms wrapping protectively around herself, grief flooding back into her, worry soaking her. "She said they make her sleep through anything."

"The girl?"

"Sleeps through anything anyway. But we can put on some music."

"I can be quiet when I have to be." Spike assured her, and then cursed himself. _Don't I sound all placating and kindly?_ "Not that I would be tonight."

"Except you don't want me to suddenly find a stake and ram it through your unbeating heart, right?"

"That's a very good reason." He nodded, suddenly feeling that being agreeable was appropriate.

"You know what this is, right?" She paused before opening the door.

"Some sort of death wish modified due to the fact that neither of us wants to die anytime soon, an' if we go out, we wanna go out with a worthy opponent? i.e., Us."

She blinked. "God, Spike, you need to talk to people more. All those words bottled up inside? Wow."

"I have to put up with Harmony. I avoid talking at all costs." He smirked. "Plus, I actually went to university an' passed."

"Your professors weren't insane though, were they?" She spat. They exchanged a look. Neither of them wanted to be reminded of Maggie Walsh or the Initiative, or Riley. Of anything really.

"Give you that. Alright, so in Slayer lingo, words of two syllables or fewer, what is this?"

"Enemies with benefits." She replied in silky voice.

"That's new." He felt himself rising, hardening, scenting his prey. Able to hunt or not, he was still about to catch her. "And this applies to-"

"Tonight. You and me. A one time deal."

"Like our last 'one time deal'?"

She was quiet. She didn't feel like lying. If she needed him again, for this, she'd ask for it. If she didn't want it, she wouldn't. "I don't know." She looked at him nervously. _Does he think I'm bad now? Wait, stop thinking like that. Spike is the one who really knows you. He knows you're not bad. He just also happens to be what you want at the moment._

He sniffed in, nodded. "Fair enough." He smiled brashly. He watched her enter ahead of him. Cursing himself heartily, he caught up with her and put a gentle hand on her arm. "Just 'cause we're enemies, doesn't mean we're not going to have a good time, right?"

"Right." She gave him a small tentative smile. "I- last time- I was upset, and it was kind of revenge-y."

"And this time you're sad an' scared for your mum."

"Yeah. So..." She trailed off. "Might not be as good as the last time."

He appraised her. Acres of want and need in that body, all of it there, trapped, because she wouldn't let Captain America try to shoulder the burden. When she released it- it'd be just as passionate, in a whole new way. "Oh, I doubt that very much, Luv." He purred.

The glint in his eye sparked one in hers. Well, he knew her better than anyone else, right? Her strange counterpart. It would feel good if she could let go of everything. Like she had that one time, that one night. "Have you ever been wrong about me?" She asked suddenly.

He thought hard. "Not since I've met you in person, no."

"Then you're probably right about tonight." She squared her shoulders and led him silently through the black hallways of the house until they arrived in the darkness of her room.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	2. Chapter 2

See You on the Flip Side

By Sweetprincipale

_A sequel to Sex and Candy. Set during S. 5 At the very end of episode "Fool for Love" and deviates in the midst of it._

_Author's Notes: Short, smutty, Spuffy. I do hope you like it, I just needed a little break from my larger projects and thought this would make an interesting distraction._

_Direct quotes from songs and shows are obviously not mine but belong to the enormously talented people who created them. _

_Dedicated to Hannah the Bloody, Lithium Reaper, Idiosyncratic Delusions, and Msnycegirl0820 _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

Part II

She flicked on the small vanity lamp, just like last time. Both of them were swept by a wave of deja vu. She stepped by the bedside table, and Spike's eyes followed her. Last time, she'd put a stake down, right there, right within easy reach, and the message was clear, "I'll kill you if you make one false move." Now she removed the stake from the waistband of her pants, opened the drawer of the table, and put the stake firmly inside.

She can't trust me, Spike thought worriedly. That'd never do. "The stakes were metaphorical, Slayer. When I said 'leave your stakes at home', I meant no violence."

"I know. I'm not a total idiot, like you seem to think. That was- symbolic. Meaning I-"

"Please don't say you trust me. Couldn't take that." He whispered, a half snarl on his lips.

"I'm just acknowledging that you're not gonna kill me tonight, and I'm not planning to dust you either. Okay?"

"Okay." He removed his long black jacket and watched her hunt through her CDs. "What are you- dear God, woman, what kind of garbage do you listen to? There isn't a single thing in here-"

"Shhh!" She clamped a hand over his mouth and glared. "Quiet, or the stake comes back out." She warned. "You pick what you want, I just need something loud enough to-" she blushed and fiddled nervously with her collar.

"Muffle the noises?"

"But not wake Dawn. I'm not too worried about my mom. B-because of the meds." One side of her mouth trembled and her eyes went glossy, unshed tears quick to surface.

"Right. Somethin' to muffle, but not disturb." He rifled through. Not one single thing would he ever willing listen to. And then, "Hey, you an' I might get along after all." He held up a Pink Floyd collection triumphantly.

"That's my mom's! We can't listen to that!"

"Let me get this straight. I can fuck you 'til you soak the sheets, but I can't listen to a CD while I do it, 'cause it happened to belong to your mum?"

"I do not soak the sheets!" She hissed.

"You will by the time I'm done." He grinned evilly. "I have this album, too. Jus' pretend this one is mine, an' I ran home to get it." He didn't mention that his album was a vinyl and was so warped by the damp of the crypt that it wouldn't have played anyway.

"That's so lame." She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Princess. I bet you've never even listened to it." He gently placed the disc in the player, and adjusted the volume so it was loud enough to obscure voices, but not wake anyone up. Buffy moved to her vanity again, and took the phone off the hook. Then, with a slow smile, she locked the door.

It felt odd. Spike moved closer to her with a nod, wordlessly reaching for her as she reached for him. They didn't speak as they carefully began undressing each other. That was the odd part. Shouldn't it be rough, this stripping of your enemy? Or, inversely, shouldn't it be more comfortable, dare he say "friendly", since they'd done it once before?

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Buffy thought, as they solemnly got to the final pieces of clothing. He looked and acted so grave, not at all like the jerk she loved to hate. There had been some real deep stuff going on out on the porch, now it was strained when they got down to it. His hands were sliding up her bare arms, past her bra straps- fingers going to the clasp of her necklace. She looked up at him.

They hadn't kissed this time. That was what felt out of place. Not that kissing should concern him, it was about the fucking her into a state just this side of pain, right? And then he looked at her, his hands on the stubborn, tiny clasp of her necklace, which he didn't even know why he was bothering with, and realized kissing was very important.

He looked down at her, and she knew it wasn't a mistake (well, it _was_, but it wasn't falling under the heading of "bad idea" at the moment). They just hadn't broken the ice yet. _I'm standing in my bra and underwear, he's naked, what the hell does it take to break the ice around here?_ "Um."

"Shh." He successfully removed the necklace and dangled it over her hand, letting her take it to put it away. She turned to the side, dropping it on the bedside table, feeling his hands become caressing on her shoulders, turning her to face him again. She tilted her chin up and they brushed lips. Perfunctorily, just once, almost shyly- but they weren't shy, they couldn't be. "Better?" He asked with a hint of the cocky grin she expected.

She almost laughed and his smile broadened. "We have weird ways of trying to kill each other, huh?"

"You're the only slayer who tried this method, gotta say."

"Yeah, well," she shoved his hands to her hips, letting his thumbs pull down her waist band as her hands reached back and undid her bra hooks, "you know what they say about keeping your friends close, and your enemies closer."

"We must be the most literal pair in the world then." He pushed his hands hard up her spine, pressure on the tense muscles. _Relax her. Feels so much better when she's relaxed..._

"That, or you must really be the most deadly enemy." Damn, his hands felt good. He wasn't even trying to do a back rub, and already her stressed out muscles were relaxing.

"Oh, I like that better Slayer. Good for the chipped vamp ego. I'm still the most deadly."

"It means I'm the most deadly, too, you know." She reminded him.

"You are, Luv, no question." He slid his hands up and down again, this time working to the front, determined to get hold of her chest.

When her friends complimented her skill, even Giles, who knew what slaying was about, she felt good, humbled, but pleased. When Spike said it- she felt savage, proud. The Slayer of Slayers thinks I'm deadly. Sure, we both know I'm not gonna go deadly on him, not for a long time it looks like, but hey- I'm deadly, Baby. I'm not just Chosen. I'm _good _Chosen.

Her pained gasp made him yank his hands away and up to shoulder height. "I didn't!" He cried, and she shushed him furiously. His chip hadn't fired. "Chip didn't fire- it wasn't-" He looked at her closely as she doubled over, favoring one side. "Oh, sorry, Slayer." He'd forgotten the injury she'd received. _How could I forget that, it's the reason she started thinking about death an' dyin', and we end up in this mess for round two._

"Back rub good, front rub, not so much." She slowly straightened up, hand leaving the patch of gauze and bandages.

"I wasn't givin' you a bleedin' back rub." He said defensively. "Jus' tryin' to loosen your muscles up. Much more pliable when you're loose."

"Whatever, it helped." She admitted with a shrug, and eased down. "Oh- umm- the whole gaping puncture wound I've got? We might-"

"I can be-" He clamped his lips down over his stupid, suddenly gone nancy boy tongue. Gentle was not an appropriate word for them. "I'll take it easy on you." He corrected and smirked. Yes, that was a better description.

"Just don't push on me there." She requested with a huff of air, a blush on her cheeks. How had she forgotten she was wounded? She was coming off all weak and helpless tonight, weepy and now injured. But Spike still moved around her cautiously, with an air of grudging respect. _Because we're deadly enemies- if we wanna be._

"I won't do it on purpose, that's the best you'll get from me." He offered, sliding beside her on the bed. He waited for her to lay back. _Gonna lick her again, taste that honey again._ God yes, it was worth all the strange rules and confusion if he got to sip on that nectar. Well, if he got his rocks off, too. He wasn't running a charity here.

"You first." She demanded. She knew what he expected to happen. A repeat of the last time. She wasn't in the same mood as last time, though.

"All right." He watched her warily, and lied down flat. Her hands reached out and lightly ran across his stomach, then thighs, then- "You feelin' okay?" He gasped out as her fist wrapped smoothly around him.

"Not really, no." She laughed at his discomfiture. His eyes widened as she eased her hand up and down him. "I just figured, since we were doing the whole 'know thy enemy' thing, I shouldn't miss any pieces."

"Good plan." He licked his lips hungrily. "You gonna give me a piece of you to 'know' better?" She didn't have to, he realized, he could take it. He snagged her waist with one hand and she yelped. "Shh! Mum and Sis, remember?"

"What are you doing?" Her fist tightened on him in her agitation.

"Oh, yeah, Baby, hard like that."

"Oh, God, it figures vampires would be into pain." She was surprised when he sat up and pushed her hands off.

"I never gave any woman anything 'less I thought she wanted it. Painful or otherwise." He hissed, fire dancing in his blue eyes. Then added, "I'm talkin' about in bed, of course. In the past-you're my enemy, I see you on the street, or I'm hungry, an' I want a snack, all bets are off."

"I didn't mean-"

"Never hurt you here, did I?" Oh damn it to seven levels of hell, he was telling the truth. He would love to hurt her- if she was into that. But in here, when they were having this little reality break, she wasn't violent, an' neither was he. Couldn't hurt her, when she was only here for the same reasons he was, when she was just like him, the other side of him.

"No. No, you never did." She had to admit that. He'd made her feel so amazing. No pain of any kind, not even emotional, because it was simple with him. Wow, it so should not be defined as simple. It must be whole "no strings attached, this never happened" deal. She knew he didn't love her, and she didn't love him, or have to feel guilty that she couldn't pretend to love him. And it wasn't like Parker, where she'd thought casual sex was part of building a dating relationship. They already had a relationship. An icky, strange, fifty-fifty split of trying to help each other and kill each other. Hey, it was better than the hundred percent she spent trying to kill or be killed by every other vampire in this hellhole town. "I was out of line."

"Well- I'm not sayin' I wouldn't find a way to make you fall in love with the pain, Sweetie, but we don't have that kind of relationship."

"And a big hell to the no." She shook her head. "And we never will. I'm not that kind of girl."

"True. You're too sweet for that. And I like that about you." His fingers gripped her thigh and pushed it to the side, then moved like lightening inside her to catch a taste. He brought one slick finger to his mouth and licked it slowly, right in front of her. "Mmm. Very, very sweet."

She lay back under his hands, letting him in, body on auto-obey while her mind was overanalyzing. "Did you just say you like something about me?"

"Like lots of things about you." He replied matter-of-factly between licks.

"You do?" Mind juddered right off its axis, both from pleasure and his words.

"Sure. You taste good, feel good, look good."

"Just physical then." She was relieved. And a little annoyed. If she was annoyed, she really had to stop making those little bucking motions with her hips.

"I wasn't done." He held her hips flat for a moment so he could work his tongue in deeper. She arched and a cry began to emerge, making him stop. "God, Slayer, I'm about to put somethin' in your mouth to keep you quiet! Your mum catchin' us like this equals chipectomy by fire ax. An' we agreed-" He looked up at her with dancing eyes, "that you, an' only you, can take me out."

"What else do you like then?" She gasped.

"Your fighting style. That you manage to think of snappy little banter when you fight, makes it fun for me, you know. Oh, an' you got a devious streak a mile long, even if you usually use it for the good. But a fella like me has got to admire that."

She felt herself relaxing all the way. _Someone who knows me. Likes me for simple things._ And best of all, he didn't ask if she liked stuff about him, too. Which she really liked. Weirdness. "I like that you tell me the truth about me. I like that you can see past the BS. Oh, and I like that you're not ashamed of who you are. Even if I don't _like_ who you are, I like that you don't try to act different."

"Sometimes I might." He moved slowly up her body, all her talking having distracted him from what he _should_ be doing with his tongue and lips. "But we all do that, don't we?"

"Yeah. We all do that." She watched him move with sinuous grace over her, and noticed how he was careful to avoid any contact with her injured side."Spike-"

"Let it go, Slayer. You know why we came here. Let it go."

She listened. Because, hey, he knows, right? What she was, and what she needed. She kissed him hard, and hungrily, tasting herself in his mouth, and not caring, even though it wasn't something she'd ever done before.

_She's burnin' inside._ Like scalding water, and he was gladly drowning in it. She had something his other lovers didn't. She had a living, beating heart and pulse, warmth, and the taste of blood right under the surface, especially in the delicate membranes of her gasping mouth.

There was way more kissing than last time, way more than there should be, Buffy thought, and promptly dismissed it. _Keep kissing him, moaning and gasping softly into his mouth, feeling every hard thrust he makes inside you. Because it distracts you from thinking about the woman on the other side of the door. The one you love so much, the one your nagging sixth sense tells you there's something wrong with. Something you can't fight..._

Her mouth had gone wonky. Didn't feel right, not soft and firm. It trembled, and his roving lips picked up something bittersweet and salty. Tears. Again. _I swear she saves 'em all for me. Or maybe it's sex. Shouldn't have had her first time with Broody, he prolly cried during it, taught her all wrong. First talkin', now cryin', the most bloody distractin' things when I'm busy... _But he didn't tell her that. He licked up the drops by the corner of her mouth, and stroked her hair.

She snuffled in a few times, he felt her jaw trying to lock itself into a stern set. _Mustn't show a weakness to the enemy, right? Ha. First off, a little late for that now. Second off, this enemy already knows all your weaknesses, that's how I caught you, one way or another._

She knew he was aware of her struggle. For one thing, he'd stopped his steady pounding of hips to hips, but still remained inside her. For another, she'd felt him swallow hard, twice, and watched his face take on a perplexed look as he opened his mouth. He didn't mock or gloat, like she'd expected. Maybe even like_ he'd_ expected. His words were quiet and encouraging. "Here, now, it's okay. Cry if you need to."

Where the bloody fuck was he pulling this sensitive crap from? This wasn't Drusilla, there was no soft in this. This was a modified death wish, or as she had called it, "enemies with benefits". The benefits included hard orgasms and a sense of accomplishment. No talking, no comforting!

Apparently she agreed with him. Couldn't believe he'd show a hint of compassion. "Cry? You like to see me in pain, is that it?" She hissed out a trembling whisper, tears still tangled in her throat.

"No- well, yeah, I do. Not here, though, not doin' this. I jus'- you need to cry, alright? I can feel you holdin' it in, an' I'd rather you let it out."

She accepted that, it didn't feel like a lie. _He_ wasn't the one who lied tonight. And his hands conveyed the message, stroking her hair, lips still pressing softly on leaking tears. "Why are you being so nice to me?" She whispered after a minute. He looked offended and argumentative, so she plowed on, before he could speak. "You are. Whether you mean to or not, you are being nice-ish, and I want to know why. It isn't just 'cause you're 'saving me for later'."

Damn her. Why'd she choose tonight to get observant? Must've been all the death-y realizations, their long strange night of comparing notes. He shrugged, pulling away from her embrace. Not her body, mind you, just his lips didn't need to be so close to hers, was like matches and powder kegs. They ignited strange blazes. "I had a mum, too, you know."

"Oh. Of course you did." That made sense. Only it didn't. "But don't vamps turn on their families as soon-"

"Not_ me_." He snarled.

She regarded him curiously, as if trying to understand one more piece of his strange logic, odd passions, uncalled for truces. "Good for you." She finally said softly.

He rolled off of her completely, but she kept the contact. She sat on top of him, tensed body and penetrating eyes. She was in position to sheath him inside her pulsing heat, but she didn't, resting just a shade higher up, so he was pressed to the soaking folds without being steeped in them. The girl was good at torture, he smiled inside. She'd make one hell of a vamp. Now that was a thought, could you turn a Slayer? 'Cause then one day, he could have his cake and eat it too.

"Do you still remember her?" She asked seriously.

Smacked back a solid century and then some. "My mum? Of course I still remember her!" He said angrily. "Don't care if you live to be a thousand, you never forget your mum. You might try. But you can't." His voice faded until she was leaning down to catch his words. "Your mum is special. Like mine was." His eyes had gone far away, looking into the past, and now they were hard, back to the present, searing hers. "And I hope Joyce'll be okay, Slayer. Honestly, I do."

Startled by the passionate insistence, she fumbled out the beginning of a question, "What d-?"

"My mum. She was dyin'. Dyin' slowly, for years. Nowadays, hell, even about thirty years after she was gone, they- well, they can prevent it now. They can treat it. Cure it."

"Spike, I'm-"

"She wasn't a quitter, either, Summers. Oh, no, she was a lady through an' through, but she was a fighter. She knew she was goin', she did , but she was calm about it. Graceful." The eyes were far away again, drifting back to happier days. Or maybe not so happy ones. "The night she- the night I met Dru, I hadn't wanted to leave her on her own, go out to this party. But she insisted, she acted like everything was just fine. 'Go along, William,' she said, 'Have a lovely time,' she said."

Buffy watched him slowly coming to the surface again. Maybe she should be quiet, he seemed faraway, locked inside himself, but she was the curious type. The question-y type. If she'd been a cat, she'd have used up all of her nine lives already. "So your mother was still alive after you turned? Oh, Spike, you didn't- after? Because I heard-"

"I already told you. Not _me_. I don't care what you heard. You heard wrong. About some of us, anyway." Goddamn her more and more with each passing syllable, she was digging to places he never, ever thought about. That night was the biggest mistake he'd ever made. And he'd done it with a pure heart- if a vampire could have such a thing. That confused him, one more reason he didn't think of it- and oh, sod it, she was still talking...

"Did you ever see her again?"

A taciturn, "Yes." was all she got in reply.

"But you-" Their eyes locked. More than locked, welded together. Her voice was horrified. "What did you do?"

"What would you do, Slayer, to save your mum?" He asked in a voice of ground glass, fine, subtle, sharp.

"Anything." She whispered, deadly serious, voice hoarse. She knew what was coming.

"An' that's what I did." He turned his head to the wall abruptly, unknowingly letting his profile tell a century's worth of regret and anguish more clearly than any words. "That's what I _tried_ to do. Didn't work out as I planned." He blinked hard, ignoring her stricken sounding gasp. "Made it right in the end."

He struggled up abruptly, hands on her shoulders, pushing her off. "This isn't workin' out, Slayer. A one time deal should _stay_ a one time deal."

"What?" She fell to the side with a soft thump.

"I'm not hard anymore, anyway, not in the shape to give you what you need just now." He snarled, and launched off the bed.

He didn't get more than a half step from her. Her fingers were small, but they were like iron when she was determined, not holding back. And with him, he recalled, she delighted in not holding back. "Slayer-"

"Buffy." She found herself correcting, pulling him back to her as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Who says I can't give you what _you_ need? If all the things we think are true, don't I give you something like you give me?"

She'd pulled him right dead in front of her, looked up at him with luscious lips parting, breathing on his rapidly reawakening member. "I guess so."

"You have sadness. You want that look of peace, William?" She tempted him.

"Sometimes." Her hands were no longer on his wrists anymore, but he was frozen in place, watching this paradox.

"You know I won't give it to you today. But I have the next best thing." Tongue tracing her lips just above his skin. "What did you say they call it?"

"The little death."

And she engulfed him in one long plunge, making his eyes pop and then close, chest expanding with a sudden intake of unneeded air.

She watched him try, and fail, to bite back a loud groan of pleasure. She strained back, finger tips barely grazing what she wanted- there. Spike looked down on her gratefully as the music swelled, covering his relieved noises.

* * *

><p><em>Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day <em>

_Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way_

_Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town_

_Waiting for someone or something to show you the way_

* * *

><p>They were in a rhythm, his hand cupping and stroking her hair, her neck, her breasts, and her head bobbing on him, powerfully, capably, owning this action. Things they'd never experienced before, shown to each other. He hadn't ever felt this, not the alive version of this act. And as for her- he showed her everything without showing her anything. "Don't hold back" they'd said, and now she wasn't.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain<em>

_And you are young and life is long and there is time to kill today_

_And then one day you find ten years have got behind you_

_No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun_

* * *

><p>Not fair really. Her life was going to be so short. His death was so long. A shame they couldn't meet in the middle... Maybe another forty years of this charade, a once a year treat, 'cause bloody hell, her mouth was enough to keep a chap happy for a year at a time.<p>

* * *

><p><em>And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking<em>

Waiting for nightfall all the time. Both of them. Buffy looked up at him, writhing in pleasure. Sometimes you could just forget he wasn't human. He _had_ been. With a mom that he loved, just like she loved her mother.

He looked down on her. She was a night creature, like him. She was good, he was bad. Didn't much matter at the moment, did it?

_Racing around to come up behind you again_

God, didn't they always catch each other?

* * *

><p>"Buffy..." He groaned, hands wrapping fully in her hair, desperation in every line of his face.<p>

"Mmmm." She wanted him so much now. Tasting him, watching him. Knowing that he knows...

_The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older_

_Shorter of breath and one day closer to death_

* * *

><p>She pulled off of him with a gasp, his hands already sliding down to grab her soft round cheeks, lift her and impale her on the turgid shaft she'd resuscitated to the point of bursting. He slammed her onto the mattress hard, still inside her. "One day closer." He snarled.<p>

It didn't sound like a threat. "I know." She breathed, fingers digging hard into his smooth back.

"You really want it?"

"No. Not right now. I-" She had him. She had her look of peace coming. And this was death that she held in her hands. Rippling, pounding inside her with reckless skill, the perfect complement to her spasming, squeezing pulses.

"You have what you need for now?"

"Not yet. But almost." She locked her hips around him, grinding hard, hearing the springs start complaining and not giving a damn.

* * *

><p><em>Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time<em>

_Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines_

She ruined his plans all the time. He should hate her for that. He did. Most of the time. Except tonight, because if she hadn't ruined his plans, they wouldn't be wrapped in the blissful embrace. Getting what they needed, both of them.

_Hanging on quiet desperation is the English way_

_The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say_

* * *

><p>She wanted to tell him some things, in this last second before they came, and the deal had to end. That she was sorry for his she was grateful he took time to sit in silence with her until she was ready to speak, not simply storm off when he didn't hear an immediate answer. Thank him for his strange, evil blend of understanding. Tell him she needed him on nights like tonight. <em>But you would never tell him anything of the kind.<em>

Her teeth gritted and eyes glazed. "No! Look at me. _Look at me_." Hands forced her head up and his eyes pierced hers. "If the little death is the only one we get to give each other for right now- I wanna see it." He hissed. "Watch it. Don't you wanna see it, Slayer? That look of peace?"

She gasped out the words she heard so often in her head, slamming him inside hard enough to bruise. " A final plunge and you're gone, but still-"

"All over you." His roar was muffled by her mouth, and he spent, all over her, inside, coating her, and feeling her give one final helpless, convulsive twitch as she came around him. Both faces took on a sudden restfulness and fulfillment, the look of peace they both claimed to want, seen in their strangely reflective partner for the evening.

This shouldn't happen. It should be triumphant, it's a job well done, it's a victory, of sorts, power over your enemy. At the very least, their physical act was complete, the deal should end.

This shouldn't happen. But it happened. She clung to him, and he clutched her, neither one breaking their intimate embrace. Then they both were still.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	3. Chapter 3

**See You on the Flip Side**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_A sequel to Sex and Candy. Set during S. 5 At the very end of episode "Fool for Love" and deviates in the midst of it._

_Author's Notes: Short, smutty, Spuffy. (This is a seriously M- Rated chapter. Just warning you.) I do hope you like it, I just needed a little break from my larger projects and thought this would make an interesting distraction._

_Direct quotes from songs and shows are obviously not mine but belong to the enormously talented people who created them. Pink Floyd songs "Time" and "Young Lust" are mentioned heavily here. I encourage you to listen to them._

_Dedicated to Hannah the Bloody, Lithium Reaper, and Idiosyncratic Delusions_

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part III**

She's gonna want me to move off of her, Spike's hazy brain prodded him after a silent, still five minutes or more. His limbs protested, spasming slightly. She just took him for a completely wild ride, like he'd predicted. It was a completely different type of passionate, but still some of the best he'd ever had.

_I should push him off. We're done._ Buffy slowly unclenched her fingers from the grooves she'd made in his perfect pearl back. He shifted reluctantly with a soft grunt, and her hands reclaimed him.

"Slayer-"

"Buffy." She corrected in a confused voice.

"Um. You all right, then?" Shouldn't they start acting awkward, well,_more_ awkward right about now?

"Yeah. You?" Why wasn't she letting go of him? This was bordering on cuddling. Cuddling with Spike, the idea was totally gag making - normally.

"Yeah."

He's still inside me, she realized with a wave of panic. She clenched her muscles experimentally, making sure she wasn't having a sensory, sexual mirage. He groaned and shifted again, this time moving up into her, not away. Yep. Still in her. And the steeliness of him was not even slightly abated.

"God, Luv." He breathed, mistaking her single spasm as an encouragement to begin again. "You're brilliant at this. Bloody amazing."

"Ungh!" She arched into him as he began rocking against her again.

"Sorry, Luv, you wanna be on top?"

"No. You're good." Very good. But again, this shouldn't be happening.

"You want it different?"

"No."

"Sl- Buffy. We're kind of goin' into a bit of new territory, aren't we?"

"Go if you want. You got what you came for." She whispered, hands finally unlocking.

"I gave you what you needed, didn't I?" His voice had a slight edge.

"You did. You were the perfect guest, okay?" She rearranged her head to meet his eyes.

"I don't want to leave. There's plenty more to get. To give." He admitted harshly.

"If you leave, I'll sit here, and I'll watch her sleep. And I'll imagine everything I can't do, and everything that could go wrong." She regarded him stoically. "What'll happen to you if you leave?"

"I'll kill Harmony."

"Oh, God, then go, go!" Buffy laughed in spite of herself, and he chuckled deeply.

He smiled. Jokes aside. She hadn't had to tell him that last bit, but she had. "I'll walk around, kill some demons to get the violence outta my system, then I'll sit. An' I'll drink. Until I can't drink anymore, 'til I can't feel you around me, still hear your moans in my head, even though you're asleep, a mile away." He closed his eyes. If that didn't sound like the lust was going deeper, he didn't know what did. He'd better make it obvious that it wasn't the case. "I'm not soft on you. I jus' know you too well, an'-"

"Shhh. I know. When you leave, I'll be worrying about her. But I'll be feeling you. Just for tonight."

"Right. For tonight." He nodded, wondering if they had just lied to one another in the midst of all this honesty.

"Tonight isn't over yet." She said hesitantly.

"You're right, Pet." He smirked suddenly. "Let's enjoy this one, shall we?"

"You didn't enjoy the last one?" She sounded shocked.

"Oh, bloody good ending, Luv. Not so much for the middle."

"All with the heavy." She agreed.

"Not mindlessly satisfying, right?"

"Mind_fully_ satisfying."

"Got the look of peace. The little death. Got what we need. Now- what do you _want_, Buffy?"

She didn't answer, she writhed, making snake like s-curves under him, pressing into him, unheeding of the pain in her wounded side.

"You want me to burst into flames, is that it?" He moaned, drenched in her heat. God, in _their_ heat. She had his seed inside her and was begging for a second helping. That was an accomplishment not even Angel had managed to secure. Ha, he'd already topped Broody just doing her tonight._ I've had this pretty piece of flesh twice, to his once. An' I'm gonna take her as many times as I can until the daylight forces me to quit. If she's willin', of course._

"No flames. That's no fair." She locked her calves around his. "What do you want, Spike?"

"Thought you'd never ask, Luv." He licked his lips, licking hers as well, they were so close together. "I want you. I want to fill you up until you can't take one more inch, or hold one more ounce. I want to fuck you in every position I can think of, some I might make up as I go along." There he was, - nasty, hardcore, badass. Fuck the slayer seven ways from Sunday until she begged him to stop. "An' I want you to love every second of it." He hissed. _How __did __that __get __out?__Seriously, __how? _That wasn't at all in line with the brutal shag-fest he'd just envisioned. Her enjoying it was a perk, a stroke to his ego. There should be no requirement for her to _love _it.

Yes, yes, yes, just what she wanted, but could never have thought to say. Not raw and frenzied, dark and passionate like that. "That's what I want." She whispered back, sliding both hands through his hair. Kissing him shouldn't be such a critical part of this mindless crashing of bodies together. But it was. She could taste him, she could feel him, touch him, and hear him, his cock making soft slick noises because they were so wet together. Let go. Give in. Don't hold back. "Don't hold back." She breathed against his open mouth.

"Turn up the music, then." He growled.

* * *

><p>Was she resting? Riley hoped so. He took that nest out, proved he could do the work for her, be what she needed. Without super powers, just some good ol' American Army ingenuity and a hearty does of firepower. But he half suspected- after their recent discussions, that she didn't see him as much of a help. More of a hinderance. Was she out patrolling, with that deep penetrating wound? He sat up and looked at the digital clock by his bed. Red numbers flicked as they changed. After two. She'd at least be home by now, if she had patrolled, in spite of their agreement. He'd try to sleep, one more time, then he'd call.<p>

* * *

><p>She sprawled under him, face down this time, not even caring that she wasn't facing her bedside drawer with the stake in it. Sinful voice in her ear, devilishly skilled hands roaming her body possessively, and it was easy to give in to him.<p>

"Do you like that, Buffy?" He'd started calling her by her given name easily after the second time in the same night. This would be number four. He was going by his releases, not hers. She still called him Spike, which he preferred. William was sweet and soft. Spike was hard and cruel. Buffy was warm and willing, and oddly enough, a perfect fit for Spike, the man, and the vamp. "Tell me you like it, or I'll stop." He teased, hands joining in a V with hers, all four of their hands now circling on her mound, fingertips just brushing her extremely sensitive pearl, the rocking of her face down hips forcing extra friction from the sheets onto her little nub.

"I like it, I love it." She looked back over her shoulder, taking in the sight of his impassioned face, all sharp planes and feral grins. "I guess you like it, too."

"Wrapped in this hot little nest? You know you're full of me, don't you?" He rolled his hips to hers, pelvis cushioned in the soft curves of her rear.

"The huge hard thing in between my legs kind of tipped me off, yeah." She laughed dryly.

"In your where?" He demanded.

"I'm not saying it." She growled.

"Pussy." He nipped her ear hard.

"Spike!"

"Pussy's a nice word, Luv. What do you usually call it, hmm?"

"Nothing. It's there, why do I need to call it?"

"You're terrible." He laughed again. "Your pussy is full of my cock. And what's more-" He licked her pulse point, "you're full of my cum. Wet, sticky, Spike cum." And she just got so much wetter. "An' it turns you on, doesn't it?"

"Do you like being covered in girl juice? 'Cause you are." She countered, pushing her shoulders up. This was a test of how things were going. If he was going to try anything he shouldn't, he'd hold her down now. Instead, she felt his arms brace to lift his chest from her back, and then there was only one arm in front of her, the other was soft on her stomach, pulling her up.

"I love, soddin' _love_ bein' covered in girl juice. Yours is so much wetter, warmer, more alive than the others'."

"Could be 'cause I'm not _dead_." She reminded him.

"You say the word, Luv, I'll give it a try." He vamped, she could see it from the corner of her eye, and then he resumed human features quickly._ Prolly shouldn't have done that._ He wasn't sorry for it though. He was, oddly enough, sorry if it had upset her. "I didn't mean anything by that, Buffy. I mean-" He was so frustrated. Life was easier when you could kill the girl before you got to have this insane relationship with her.

"Yes, you did!" She was ticked, but not mad, not threatened. "You meant you'd bite me if I wanted it. Why the hell would I want it? I've been bitten three times before and it sucks! No pun intended." She cursed the artificial blondness that made her sound dumb sometimes. Why didn't Clairol put a warning on the box about stupidity side effects along with root damage?

"Sucks, does it? Well, maybe they weren't doing it right." He purred. He licked more insistently on the pulse point, still ramming into her soft little puss from behind. He slid one finger, teased her, kneaded her external pressure point while he ravaged the insides.

"They slid fangs into my neck. Is there more than one way to do it? 'Cause all three times hurt, and I'm seriously not a fan."

"There's more than one way to do it. Necks and fangs are still involved, but it's what else you're doin' that matters."

"You couldn't anyway." She whispered. The curiosity was itching her again.

"Maybe not. But if you really, really wanted it, maybe I could. Certainly wouldn't be intending to _hurt _you." He mused aloud.

"You wouldn't be intending to hurt me as you bit me?" She unceremoniously turned around, yanking herself free with a moan, and blushing scarlet when a wet shower of their essences splashed down her thighs. "Now, how does that work?"

In reply, he softly eased her breast up to his mouth and bit down with his human teeth, teasing a scraping ring of bites on her sensitive peak. She shuddered, and when he lifted his mouth it was to find her pushing the neglected twin mound forward for more of the same. He happily obliged. "It works like _that_. Pleasure-giving."

She was shaken, but still disbelieving. "You might start out that way- but what happens when you get too carried away?"

"You'd stop wanting it, you'd perceive me as hurting you, and the piece of hardware in my brain belts me a good one."

"I don't want to ." She told him coldly, and her eyes calculated the distance between her and the nearest pointy wooden object.

Some part of his overtaxed system told him he should be offended by that, and he growled at her. "Don't do that! I can see you doin' that, lookin' for your stake, an' we had a fuckin' agreement! I won't bite you! I won't hurt you, you're my-" Oh sod. What was she again?

"I'm your Slayer." She reminded him sharply. "Your enemy."

"Then I'm your vampire." The worried face turned slightly sinister. "Your enemy."

"But tonight you're like a part of me." She whispered. "Not a good part maybe, but an honest part, a real part."

How could she look so innocent and wary at the same time? He kissed her softly, deeply, murmuring things he never in a million years meant to murmur. "I'll never hurt you in here, Buffy. I want you to want me. Like I want you."

"I want you. God, yes, Spike, I want you." Never in a million badly thought out word combinations was that supposed to come out.

"You don't have to trust me. Just _know _me."

"Ditto." It was a given that he would know her. Even when trapped in someone else's body, he could see her soul.

The hard, body punishing sex had slowed and resumed a deep, pleasurable rhythm. His teeth scraped her lip, her neck, her jugular, sucking hard, sending a strange tingle down to her clit, like they were connected. His cock filled her and found any little pieces she had left to hide, brushing them and teasing them until her entire lower half was a burning ball of lust.

"Put your game face on." She whispered a command.

"Buffy, you aren't provin' anything."

"No, I'm not. _You_ are. Show me you can control it." She challenged.

"Only if you admit you like when I'm like this." He challenged back. "The harder, rougher side of Spike comes along with that face, you sure you want it?"

"No. I want to _see _if I want it." She snapped off the words. "I'm not bad, Spike. But I'm not afraid of the dark." Her voice was steady and sure, eyes calm. A little self-knowledge goes a long way, she realized. And who kept accidentally teaching her these things? Spike.

"Are you mockin' me?" He didn't think she would do that. She'd already apologized for the verbal injury of earlier.

"I wouldn't hurt you like that." She whispered, and kissed him gently, surprising both of them.

He nodded once, and moved away from her completely. He went to the stereo, flicked through, listening for something loud, and stopping on the first one he found, hitting repeat. He chuckled as he turned to her. "Oh, priceless. Bloody perfect number."

"What is it?" She didn't listen to old people music. This was - an actually pretty good sounding song.

"It's called _Young __Lust_." Spike licked his lips. "I'll suit up in a minute, Luv. Gotta get back into it. Into you."

When he came back to bed there was subtle shift in both of them, music fueling their reckless exploration. He kissed her, hard, one hand grabbing and holding the back of her neck, and she raked his arms, nails marring his milky skin with deep red gashes. He hissed and rolled his head back. "You play dirty, Slayer."

"I don't. I just know what you're supposed to do when you're 'sleeping with the enemy'." She purred. "You get inside their heads. And you're already in mine..."

* * *

><p><em>I am just a new boy,<em>

_Stranger in this town._

_Where are all the good times?_

_Who's gonna show this stranger around? _

_Oooh, I need a dirty woman._

_Oooh, I need a dirty girl._

* * *

><p>She wasn't dirty, she was so clean it stung like antiseptic on open wounds at first. Until you realized that there's dirty like filthy whores, and then there's dirty like "down and dirty", not afraid to dive in, "get your hands dirty" dirty. That was Buffy. Buffy wasn't afraid to try, to challenge. Not with him anyway. He had a sneaking suspicion Iowa-boy wasn't so lucky.<p>

"Harder." She wrapped her legs around his and tipped him, on his back, and she rode.

* * *

><p><em>Will some cold woman in this desert land<em>

_Make me feel like a real man?_

_Take this rock and roll refugee_

_Oooh, baby set me free._

_Oooh, I need a dirty woman._

_Oooh, I need a dirty girl._

* * *

><p>He was very freeing. This whole thing was very freeing. "Take me." She whispered, and dropped like a stone to his chest, flying. He was going to take her. She knew she wore that coveted look of peace, and knew it was mixed with a grin of pure, burning, lust.<p>

"Yes, Baby, yes, I'll take you. I'll take you." He slammed into her belly, sinking his human teeth into her neck hard, listening to her gasp and groan. No shocks. She meant it. He vamped, face to her face, mouth on hers. "Can you handle it?" He challenged, golden eyes and thickened voice too demonic for her to conceivably ignore.

_What am I doing, what am I doing, oh holy shit, what am I doing?_ Her brain screamed but the music must've drowned it out. She slowly and deliberately kissed him, tongue deep and penetrating inside his predator mouth. "Take me like this for a little while first." She reached down and touched him where he slid into her.

_Her hand's rubbing my cock while most of it's in her. My cock covered in her juice. My demon's out and she doesn't care, the whole ruddy world is on its ear._ He kissed her back, not understanding why his difficult body refused to ravage hers, instead turning gentle again.

_He doesn't have to prove- wait, he isn't proving anything. He's _showing_ me. That even like this, he won't hurt me. Because tonight we're just two people looking for an out and taking what we find in each other. And this is part of what's in him._ "Spike." She put her hand flat to his chest. "Thanks. For showing me. I see it."

He didn't ask what she saw, because he was getting the uncomfortable feeling that she was starting to know him as well as he knew her. _Dammit, lost another upper hand._ He fucking hated this. He had known it would happen, the more time they spent together. He should have been more careful. But... it was nice to have someone see you for what you are, all parts, good and bad, included.

"Right then. You wanted to be taken, we do this my way." He caressed her soft satin skin, demon raging for what lay beneath her golden coating. _Shh, friend, no hurry. You'd never taste her otherwise, you realize that, don't you? Not with the chip anyway. So savor this. And make it good._

With a growl he tossed her roughly, not painfully, he was careful of that, back to her hands and knees, and yanked her hips to him. "You want the demon, Luv? He acts like an animal. But he's sentient, thinks like a human. You're about to get the best of both worlds, Buffy." Her tight cheeks smacked into his thighs as she shoved herself back hard against him. "You want it, don't you?" He paused before the plunge, waiting for the looping CD to return to the loud opening chords.

"I said, take me." She reminded him breathlessly, and collapsed into his waiting arms, his hands under her breasts, and a cold ridged forehead against her smooth shoulder.

* * *

><p><em>I am just a new boy,<em>

_Stranger in this town._

_Where are all the good times?_

_Who's gonna show this stranger around? _

_Oooh, I need a dirty woman._

_Oooh, I need a dirty girl._

* * *

><p>Riley put his head on one hand, tired of lying awake and doing nothing about his worry. Finally, he put his free hand out for the receiver of his phone, and dialed.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Will some cold woman in this desert land<em>

_Make me feel like a real man?_

_Take this rock and roll refugee_

_Oooh, baby set me free._

_Oooh, I need a dirty woman._

_Oooh, I need a dirty girl._

* * *

><p>She'd never done it like this, this hands and knees position. Wasn't it supposed to be degrading? Another big fat lie. It was empowering, slamming back into him, it was leverage-giving, letting her plunge him in deep, it was satisfying. His supremely muscled, chiseled chest was pressed into her back, a powerful reminder that her sexual partner was ripped and gorgeous. His hands were digging into the place where her hips met her rear, and his voice was whispering oddly comforting seductions in her ear.<p>

* * *

><p>Busy signal? Busy signal? Who was she talking to in the wee hours of the morning? Where had she been all night? Home or out someplace while he was risking his neck so she could rest?<p>

* * *

><p>"It won't hurt you, Buffy. It's like the hidden sexual organ only vamps can find. If the others didn't bite you in a good way- well, you know they didn't care too much about how their lovers felt in bed." He purred.<p>

"I believe you." She didn't know why, but she did. She ignored the strange background noises of the end of the song.

_Ringing_

_"Hello..?"_

_"Yes, a collect call for Mrs. Floyd from Mr. Floyd._

_Will you accept the charges from United States?"_

_Thud- "Oh, He hung up! That's your residence, right? I __wonder why he hung up?_

_Is there supposed to be someone else there besides __your wife there to answer?"_

_Rings_

_ "Hello?"_

_"This is United States calling, are we reaching..._

_Thud_

_"See he keeps hanging up, and it's a man answering."_

* * *

><p>"Why are we waiting?" she asked, tensing slightly.<p>

"Until you relax. I want you to want it." One hand eased up her back, and wrapped in the sweaty gold curtain of her hair, exposing her neck. "You have to want it."

* * *

><p><em>I am just a new boy,<em>

_Stranger in this town._

_Where are all the good times?_

_Who's gonna show this stranger around? _

_Oooh, I need a dirty woman._

_Oooh, I need a dirty girl._

* * *

><p>"Give it to me. Give it to me, Spike. God, yes. <em>End <em>_this __game_!" She begged, hand reaching up and back over her shoulder, connecting with the side of his face, smooth, sleek hair pulled tightly between her grasping fingers, pulling his mouth to her neck.

"Yes!" He plunged, and she came. She came hard. A long, prolonged shoving inside her slick canal milked him.

* * *

><p>This was getting ridiculous. Five calls, and still busy. Time to use a connection or two. "Agent Finn. Emergency Initiative Location. Utilities and services..."<p>

* * *

><p><em>Will some cold woman in this desert land<em>

_Make me feel like a real man?_

_Take this rock and roll refugee_

_Oooh, baby set me free._

_Oooh, I need a dirty woman._

_Oooh, I need a dirty girl._

* * *

><p>He drank deeply, cumming inside her when she peaked for the third time in quick succession. And stopped before she would have a chance to become fearful, activate the chip. He felt high. Wonderful. Beyond wonderful. Slayer blood was more than an aphrodisiac, it was a bloody superdrug. He collapsed on her for the second time that night, unmoving, human face replacing his demonic one. He gently licked her wounds and held her tight, closer than ever. He should roar in victory, and instead he murmured softly, "Shh, shh, my beautiful girl."<p>

"Wow. Oh, wow." She was high. That was like orgasm on steroids. "You didn't hurt me at all."

"No."

"I knew you wouldn't."

"I knew you knew." He kissed her neck again, over and over again, healing the wounds with his saliva.

She squirmed in his arms until she faced him. "Spike. So good to me." The conclusion a bare whisper, as she changed her words at the last second. She'd meant to say it was good for her. Instead she'd ended up giving him a heartfelt compliment.

"So good to me." He confessed, and they kissed, floating on a cloud of blood and sex.

* * *

><p>"Do the emergency connect to 1630 Revello Drive."<p>

* * *

><p><em>Ringing<em>

_"Hello..?"_

_"Yes, a collect call for Mrs. Floyd from Mr. Floyd._

* * *

><p>"Sir? The line is already connected. Off the hook."<p>

"Then do an emergency connect and interruption."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

><p><em>Will you accept the charges from United States?"<em>

_Thud_

_ "Oh, He hung up! That's your residence, right? I __wonder why he hung up?_

* * *

><p>"Mom!" Buffy gasped, and Spike scrambled with one hand, still holding her to his chest with the other, to retrieve the suddenly ringing phone, slamming it down in the cradle twice.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Is there supposed to be someone else there besides<em>

_your wife there to answer?"_

* * *

><p>"They hung up, Sir."<p>

"Then try it again." Riley ground out.

They tried. It worked. For the briefest of moments.

"Sir? We lost the connection."

Riley's mouth dried out.

"Sir? We can try again."

"No, thank you." He had only heard a split second. A muffled split second. He didn't recognize either voice, too much background noise. But he heard enough. Two voices. It could be completely innocent. Some strange crisis that he'd hear all about tomorrow, correction, hear about _today_. But in the meantime, he lay back filled with stabbing worry, a million questions, and one constantly repeating thought. Two voices. Two voices.

* * *

><p>"Don't go yet." She whispered.<p>

"I won't." He held her to his chest, hands stroking out the tangles he'd caused in her hair.

"We can never-"

"I got it."

"W-would you like to see M-mom before she goes to the hospital?" Her voice suddenly shook, and her eyes sought his.

"Ta', Buffy." He nodded his gratitude. _We both love our mums. Do anything for 'em. She's lettin' me show I care, even though she probably can't really believe I care._ "We can say I heard the news from you last night, an' I popped in to give her my best, yeah?"

"She'd like that." She smiled softly. Her mom had always liked Spike. Except when he was trying to kill her, which was- well, always. _Why does my mom like him again?_ But she had to admit, the first time Spike and her mom ever met, in a non-violent way that was, he was up front. _"__Um...__you __hit __me __with __an __ax __one __time. __Remember? __Uh,__'get __the __hell __away __from __my __daughter.'__?__"_ Her mom told her about it later, laughing. Actually _giggling_ over it. "She'd really appreciate that you-care- Spike."

"You Summers women. You're a strange lot. But I like you. _Sometimes_."

"You're a strange, sad, vampire punk freak." She looked deeply into his eyes. "But I like you. _Sometimes_."


	4. Chapter 4

**See You on the Flip Side**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_A sequel to Sex and Candy. Set during S. 5 At the very end of episode "Fool for Love" and deviates in the midst of it._

_Author's Notes: Short, smutty, Spuffy. I do hope you like it, I just needed a little break from my larger projects and thought this would make an interesting distraction._

_Direct quotes from songs and shows are obviously not mine but belong to the enormously talented people who created them. _

_Dedicated to Hannah the Bloody, Lithium Reaper, and Idiosyncratic Delusions_

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part IV**

She didn't sleep. Neither of them pretended that she was sleeping, or that he was. After the extremely intense, body shaking, blood-letting, mind-expanding sexual encounter, they both had severe afterglow. She even wondered if you could have afterglow burns. But once it finally wore off, she got up, and turned off the CD, switching to a classic rock station, and lowering the volume.

He wondered if he should move, but didn't have to wonder for long, because she wordlessly got back into bed, and pressed herself to him, face to face, exhausted and unmoving.

Maybe it's the being dead part. But he could hold perfectly still, stay perfectly quiet, for long stretches of time. He endlessly stroked her hair, which she found comforting and peaceful, and yet with all the efforts- the stroking, the exhaustion, the softer music, the comforting silence and stillness- she couldn't fall asleep.

"I can go again." He finally whispered.

"I'm not up for the hard stuff." She murmured, not meeting his eyes.

"I know soft stuff, y'know. Jus' don't give it to _you_. Not that I've had much in the way of chances. Or will have." He hastily added.

"Right." She nestled deeper into his arms._ Nestled? I'm nestling!_ Major wiggins. Took long enough to show up, but they'd finally arrived. And then his next words, so normal sounding, chased the worry away.

"Could go get a cuppa downstairs. It's early, but, better than them wakin' up to findin' us in here, all shagged out."

"Good point. Except I don't wanna move." She groaned softly. "You wore me out."

"Which I gotta say, damn proud of. Never managed it on the battlefield, did I?"

"No. But then again, I never wore you out either."

"You put me in a bleedin' wheelchair, girl. That's quite 'worn out'.

"Nu-uh, that was hurting you, not tiring you out."

"In that case, I agree with you. You never managed to wear me out. What can I say? I've got stamina."

"Very yes." She agreed. They exchanged tired grins, and she trailed one hand down experimentally. Standing tall, rock hard, hot to the touch. "Why is it-"

"Warm? Good blood. And your heat against me. Around me. Soaking me, God, Buffy, do you want to see the slow stuff or not?" Thinking about her perfect peach split open on him was driving him mad.

"Quiet?" _Once more with Spike would earn more time put in the "not thinking about my mom" jar._

"I won't even breathe." He smirked.

* * *

><p>She almost didn't breathe either. Not because she was trying so hard to be quiet, but because even when he was slow and his touches were soft, it was good. Really good, better than good,<em> better than Riley,<em> _no, don't think about that,_ better than anything. Hard, soft, kinky, vanilla, he was a demon in bed. _A demon in bed. _She started to giggle.

"Fucked your brains loose, did I?" Spike whispered in the curve of her bitten neck. "Gone mad, have you?"

"You're a demon in bed." She giggled with a gasping squeak. "Get it? Get it?"

"An' you're a dumb blonde." He laughed back, rolling her over and and over again, taking pleasure in her warmth, easing in and out of her with relaxed strokes. "Silly bitch."

"Annoying bastard." She kissed him lazily, smile never leaving her face. He traced her cheek with his thumb, a lot of unspoken reassurance in his touch. "Thanks for coming over."

"I was gonna kill you, remember?"

"I know. But I like all the little deaths I got instead of the one big being killed." She joked over all the seriousness.

"Yeah. Gotta say-" _No, don't say, don't say, don't say it, oh shit, gonna end up sayin' it, never bloody fails-_ "that I prefer it this way, too."

"You- you do?"

"Well- yeah. I mean, look at this. Got everything I could want out of it. Sex, blood, rock 'n' roll." He kept his tone light.

"So- do we have some kind of truce-y thing then?" She asked cautiously.

"Until the chip comes out." A lie. He couldn't kill her. Oh, well, this was good enough. And maybe one day he'd be cured. Because this- this creeping sentiment- had to be a disease. Maybe the chip coming out would make him truly appreciate the violence he'd taken for granted and he could rip the Slayer's little throat out. But as for now...

"When's that gonna be?"

"I don't know." He looked down into the moist green eyes and nuzzled his lips against hers. "Not for awhile."

* * *

><p>Dawn came down the stairs, saw who was sitting in the living room watching the morning news, and shrieked. "Buffy! Buffy!"<p>

Spike jumped up, and Buffy, carrying a bag of marshmallows raced in from the kitchen. "What, what is it?" She demanded, eyes immediately traveling upstairs, expecting to see her mother collapsed on the floor or something else horrible prompting Dawn's shrill cries.

"Uh- Spike's here." Dawn pointed lamely to the bleached vamp.

"Oh, bloody hell." He sank back in the chair with a hoarse laugh.

"I know that!" Buffy tossed him the bag of marshmallows and he dumped a handful into the steaming mug beside him on an end table. "Why the screaming?"

"Well, he's a vampire and he's- in our living room?" Dawn replied slowly.

"I'm not here to hurt anyone, Bite- Bit." He hastily changed his term of gustatory endearment. Buffy glared daggers at him, but they were less deadly than usual.

"Then why are you here?" Dawn sat down and picked up Buffy's mug, drinking her hot chocolate.

"Hey!" Buffy shook her head. For a mystical ball of energy zapped into a human, they sure did a good job putting in all the annoying little sister pieces.

"Oh. Sorry." Dawn said sheepishly. She watched Spike rise and wordlessly hand her sister his own cup, which she took without question._ Okay. Weird. My sister and the vampire totally hate each other, but they don't mind swapping cooties? It must be a Slayer thing._

"Dawn, listen." Buffy sat down on the couch beside her. "I have to talk to you about Mom."

* * *

><p>He paced the kitchen until the little one stopped crying. These hero types. Very dramatic. Liked to assume the worst, didn't they? Nothing was probably even wrong with Joyce. Nothing serious anyway. He hoped. He slowly stirred the chocolate on the stove top. Cuppa for him and Joyce.<p>

"Your Mum's up." Spike announced, entering the room, wincing at the sight of the two tear stained faces. With his sensitive predatory hearing, he could hear Joyce's sluggish heartbeat speeding up. Speeding well up. The girls weren't the only one's who were scared. And yet, he could almost guarantee that Mrs. Summers would march down the stairs with a smile plastered in place, calm and graceful as ever. Like his mum had been.

"She is? Okay. Okay, we're going to be positive, and brave. Do you understand?" Buffy shook Dawn's shoulders.

Dawn nodded, choking off her tears with a strangled breath. "Mmhmm. I'm gonna get dressed. I'm not going to school, right?"

"Right. Well, maybe in the afternoon, but not the morning. So you can wear your grungy jeans and that stupid monkey tee shirt for right now." Buffy forced a grin.

"You dress_ so_ boring." Dawn stuck out her tongue, and stomped upstairs.

Spike hesitantly touched her back, and she jumped. "Sorry." He mumbled. "Made your mum some cocoa. D'you think she can have it before this test?"

"I don't know." Her voice shook. "I don't know anything. I was- I should have looked up stuff. I don't even know what a CAT scan does, except they can see inside your head." She sounded panicky, and for the second time in ten minutes, he handed her his cup.

I'm not destined to drink hot chocolate this morning, he thought, and that was the last clear thought he had. She was in his arms, muffling her tears on his chest. "Shhhh. Brave face, Buffy, gotta be." He patted her comfortingly, awkwardness and hesitancy gone.

"I-I know." She controlled herself with an effort. "I can't be- I have to be strong for them."

"That's right."

"But when I'm alone-"

"You give way all you need."

"Spike-"

"Dawn told me we had an unexpected visitor." Joyce sailed down the stairs, suitcase in hand, brave for her daughters' sake. She threw Spike a bemused smile.

"Mom, let me get that!" Buffy protested, and took the bag.

"Hullo, Joyce."

"Spike. What brings you to my house? In daylight?"

"Ran into your eldest last night after you told her about your trip to the doc." Spike extended his hand with the second mug. "Came to wish you the best. An' since I was here-"

"You made me hot chocolate!" She hugged him briefly with one arm. "That was so sweet. Isn't that sweet, Buffy?"

"Uhhh. Yeah. Okay." She looked skeptical, but Spike saw the smile in her eyes. And he felt sure no one else would. _Gotta really know this girl to read her._ Sad, really, that he was the only one who seemed to have mastered it. Maybe it was because he knew slayers. Or maybe because he knew her as a girl, and as a slayer. _Hard to know what a person is unless you get to view both sides, init?_

"I think it's very nice." Joyce said firmly.

"I'm just returnin' the favor." He smiled a tight, humbled grin.

"You're going to make someone a good husband someday." She patted his arm, ignoring his yelp that his kind didn't marry, and looked at him sympathetically. "How's the- uh- the girl? Priscilla?"

"Drusilla. She's fine, far as I know." He shot the Slayer an evil glare. She was chortling into her coffee cup. Liked to see her mum get the best of him, with only a few innocent words.

"Well, don't worry. There's someone for everyone." She looked at the mantle clock and hurriedly drank her cocoa. "We need to hurry. My admission to radiology is at 7:30, and I want to be there early in case I have to fill out paperwork."

"Right. Da-awn!" Buffy hollered up the stairs and Joyce clutched her head. "Oh! Sorry, Mom!"

"I'd walk you to the car, Joyce, but- burstin' into flame's a bit of a problem for me." He took her hand firmly. "Best wishes. I'll be waitin' for some good news, yeah?"

Joyce cast a look around, her two daughters bickering over something at the foot of the stairs. "Thank you. I hope so. You- you came all the way over here, in daylight, just to tell me that?"

"Yeah." He shrugged.

"That was very thoughtful. I know you and Buffy don't get along, but I'm sure, deep down, deep, deep,_ deep_ down, she appreciates the gesture."

"I'm sure." Spike shared a rueful smile with her. _Maybe not so far from the surface as you'd think, Joyce._

"I'm going to the car, now!" Joyce called over the squabbling, which died immediately. "See you soon, Spike."

"Bye, Joyce." He nodded, and she walked out into the sunlit porch, causing him to hastily back away, into the shadows of the hall.

"Bye, Bit." Spike called the younger girl her new nickname unthinkingly. She gave him a watery stare, and he spoke sharply. "Oi. Brave face. You're a Summers woman, your mum needs you."

Her shoulders squared. "Thanks for making the chocolate." She looked at him with flushing cheeks, and darted past him. He called me a woman._ He thinks I'm a _woman_. An _adult_. He's so cool..._

Buffy paused in the dining room, finding her bag, fishing for her keys. "So, um. I'll see you around?"

"You'll let me know what they say, straight away, yeah?"

"Of course." She struggled with a whole frantic buzz of emotions. "Are you going to wait in here until the light gets lower?"

"Yeah, if that's okay. Or I can find my blanket, it's here someplace, I think."

"Stay if you want. For awhile. If you steal anything- you're dusted." She threatened.

"Like I'd have to steal anything of yours." He gave her a smug smirk. "Nothin' of yours I'd want that you didn't already willingly offer up to me. Body. Blood. An' more." He ended the sentence before he could delve into the less tangible things they'd shared. Knowledge. Grief. Memories. Comfort. Exploration. Life an' death, just about.

"Okay." She was leaning into him, as if she was going to- no! No kissing. That was for their strange sexual partnership-thing. Never anything else. "Bye, Spike."

"See you on the flip side, Buffy." He followed her to the door.

Cryptic much? "My Dad says that._ Said_ that. To his college buddies. What the hell does that even mean?"

"What it means, Buffy, is the other side of the album. When it was records instead of CDs, you flipped them over to hear the other songs. That was the flip side. So, I'll see you-" he touched her shoulder, her neck, not caring if it was wrong, "on the reverse side."

"The opposite side of the coin." She muttered, leaning slightly, ever so slightly, into his touch.

"The reflection." Dammit. He did see her reflected in him, in small ways. Small but significant ways.

She smiled bravely, and put her hand on his arm before she pulled away. "Yeah, Spike. I probably _will _see you on the flip side."

And she was gone, out the door to the sound of Dawn's shouting reminders to hurry. He sighed and slowly collected the brown stained mugs, drinking the dregs of his own cups turned Buffy's, still tasting her lips faintly on the rim.

* * *

><p>Riley called the house. The phone rang normally, but it wasn't answered, the machine came on. Everything was fine, back to normal. She was probably in the shower. Yeah, it was only a little past seven, and she was a night owl, not an early riser like him. Well, in her line of work, he supposed that was the best way to be. He headed over, deciding to show up in person, make things right. They should really sit down and talk over the little issues between them, the slight strain that had been on their relationship lately. Face to face. His heart sped up just thinking of that face. Everything would be okay. It had to be, because he loved her so much, and one day, she'd realize that it was okay to let herself love him back. And then he could tell her, confess how much he loved her, to the <em>real <em>her. Not an impostor.

Rage fueled his steps, and he jogged to her house, abandoning his brisk walk. That was the start of this whole problem. He'd made one little mistake and told some monster that looked like his Buffy that he loved her. Now she had the silly idea that he didn't really know her, understand her. Of course he didn't understand her! She was amazing, a goddess, some beautiful, magical creature, and he was just a regular guy. He could never understand her, but that wouldn't matter, because he loved her, and he would be there for her. If she just let him in.

_So- who had she let in last night?_ His jog broke into a full out run.

* * *

><p>The cups washed and dried, the telly turned off. He'd found his blanket in the coat closet, neatly folded over a hanger. <em>That'd be Joyce doin' that.<em> But he headed upstairs instead of out. Maybe get a little rest before going back home to face the creature from the blonde lagoon. Maybe she'd assume he'd gotten staked by the Slayer, and would be fleeing to some other part of town. Or better yet, some other part of the country. Oh, if only...

He switched off the radio in Buffy's room and inhaled. If they ever made porn for vampires, it wouldn't be visual. Well, not only visual. It would be scent based. And this room was the equivalent of a hardcore, banned in thirty eight states, you must be over the age of 21 to enter, feature length film. His cum, her cum, both their juices, both their tears, her saliva, her sweat, her blood. Yes, her blood was there, from where a single careless drop had missed being swallowed, escaped down her neck, down her soft breast and left a tiny red splotch on the sheet.

He actually felt dizzy. Bites during sex were common, but biting someone alive, during, hot, sweaty, forbidden sex, with loud baselines throbbing in time with her heart and his erection, that was new. That was the best high of his unlife. He laughed softly, pulling up the quilt to cover their passion stained sheets. It _must've_ been the best high. He hadn't had a single cigarette all night. And just inhaling this? Smokes paled in comparison.

He picked up one of her soft pink sweaters and held it lovingly up to his face. He wanted to inhale her once more, just the plain, clean scent of her, before sleeping on that fragrance drenched bed. Like cleansing the palette between expensive wines.

* * *

><p>The car was gone, but that didn't mean anything. Buffy was an avid pedestrian. If the car was gone, it meant Joyce was gone, and so much the better for their heart to heart chat. Riley knocked softly, and then rested his hand on the knob. It twisted. Unlocked. Good, she must definitely be home.<p>

"Hello? Buffy?" No answer. Maybe she was upstairs. He should wait down here, it wasn't polite to- he paused as he took off his jacket. A faded blanket. With scorch marks on it. _Hostile 17_. Spike, he corrected angrily inside his head. He was his own man, and he didn't label all demons like that. Even though he hated Spike with all the passion he could ever imagine. Buffy was here, Spike was here, Joyce was gone, Dawn should be in school... He couldn't hurt her, could he? Not with the chip in place. But still- he crept up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Spike inhaled once more. Senses buzzed, even with just that little hint of her. How in God's name had he maintained any sort of composure last night, when her naked body was all over him? Oh, that's right. <em>He hadn't.<em> He was furious with himself. He should hurry from this place of confusion- but after one more whiff.

"What are you doing in here?" Riley blurted out angrily, shattering the calm.

_Fuck it!_ Spike spun and put the sweater behind his back._ I'm dead. She's gonna be so pissed. Wait, shouldn't I be worried about the large angry chap in front of me instead of the tiny little girl who's not home?_

_ No, not really._

"I said,_ what are you doing in here_? In this house." Riley took in the room with a frantic eye. Buffy wasn't here. Spike was. Her clothes were on the floor, both pillows on the bed looked rumpled. His mind tugged him in two directions. Death. Deception. "I'm asking you one more time..."

"What, me? I was, uh-" Don't tell anyone, they'd said. Do this once and done, they'd said. Don't soddin' get caught, they'd said! Okay, fine they'd never actually _said _any of those things but they'd meant them! "What are _you_ doin' here?" He turned the tables, mind numbly recalling that the best defense is a good offense. Or was that the other way around? It had never mattered before, because the_ bes_t thing was always to _kill the buggers_ and leave.

"I'm looking for the girl who's gonna rip your arms off when she finds out you were in her bedroom." Emphasis on the word bedroom. Why was he in _here_?

"Oh yeah? Well ... me too." He'd gotten a bit tangled there, but that should suffice. Captain Cardboard wasn't much for the thinking. But he was damn quick sometimes- Spike didn't have time to react more than a flinch and half finished move to push the sweater up his sleeve when Riley suddenly lunged down and tore the sweater out of his hands.

"Were you ... were you just smelling her sweater?" Riley gave him a confused look.

He scoffed in return. "No." _Well, actually, pretty hard to deny that. And Iowa's about to leap to the right conclusion if I don't cover a little._ "Well, yeah, all right, I did. It's a" _sexual thing, no don't say that, you nit, _ "predator thing, nothin' wrong with it. Just- know your enemy's scent, whet the appetite for a hunt." He inhaled again, wondering if the look of rapture was off his face. "Ah, that's the stuff! Slayer musk, it's bitter and aggravating!" _And warm and rich, and nowhere near as hot as what you'd smell if you had my nose and were closer to these sheets, mate._

Riley grabbed the sweater and tossed it angrily away, then grabbed him by the lapels and began dragging him from the room. "Out!"

"I've got as much right to be here as you do, Soldier Boy." Spike broke his grip.

"Are you kidding me?" Riley asked incredulously. "Right? You- right, Spike? Are you insane?"

"I just know for a bleedin' fact the Slayer wouldn't mind me bein' here." Spike felt a new kind of hatred growing in him. Jealousy. _You have all the time in the world with her, an' you waste it, you blow it, you never try to really see her. I get two nights with her, an' you gotta come in and ruin my little after party. "_

"She wouldn't mind you being here? Right. What's a little sweater-sniffing between sworn enemies?" He mocked.

"Your girl in the habit of-" _fucking her enemies, kissing them, cryin' in their arms, sharing her blood, her body, her mouth, with her enemies?_ "buyin' her enemies drinks? 'Cause she spent the better part of last night with me," He couldn't keep the smugness out of his voice any longer, "doin' just that."

Gnawing worry about her safety was replaced by intense worry of another kind. She told me. If she wanted superpowers, she'd be dating Spike. What if she wanted superpowers? Why are both pillows used? Why are her clothes on the floor, not in the hamper? " Oh, sure. 'Cause you guys are such tight pals." The mocking tone was slightly more bitter now.

"Yeah." _No! We are not pals, not friends, certainly not romantically involved. I just- can't get enough of her sometimes. An' she's kinda got the problem in reverse. The flip side..._

Riley didn't like the confidence he spoke with. _But Spike's the biggest, cockiest, bastard I can think of. Of course he can bluff._ "That's good. Tell me another."

The boy was goadin' him. And Buffy was gonna kill him. No, no she was gonna give him little deaths. Multiple tastes of sweet release, enough to make you lose count. But he couldn't tell the enormous hall monitor that. "Okay, how 'bout this one? Twice in recent memory, she's had the lover wiccas do a de-invite on the house. Keep out specific vamps. Ever ask yourself why she's never taken my name off the guest list?" Chew on that one, prat.

Why hadn't she? Just because they occasionally worked alongside, killing something together, because they were fighting evil and he just happened to like killing things, didn't mean he had to have a standing invite to enter her home. Her room. Her bedroom. "Because you're harmless."

"Oh yeah, right. Takes one to know, I suppose. Least I still got the attitude." He surveyed the clean cut human before him. "What do _you_ got, a piercing glance? Face it, White Bread, Buffy's got a type, and you're not it. She likes us dangerous, rough, occasionally bumpy in the forehead region." Shit, truths were flyin' from his mouth left an' right, an' any second the one about last night's activities was gonna pop out if he wasn't careful. "Not that she doesn't like you ... but, sorry Charlie, you're just not dark enough."

He felt himself smashed to the blind covered glass of the window, one of the soldier's massive hands holding him in place, hand doing its damnedest to break the ribs (not that he could, he was on Slayer blood. Not much, but it was bloody powerful stuff). He laughed at the boy's enraged expression- until he saw the other hand was on the blind cord. "Easy, easy!"

" Am I dark enough for you now?" He slowly twisted the cord so the plastic slats began to rise.

"Let go of the cord, you wanker." Spike felt a burning beam across his lower back.

"Are you falling for my girl?" Riley snarled, opening the blinds more.

"Bloody pull it back down, you sod, I'm starting to sizzle!"

"Answer me!"

No. He should have said a plain and simple denial. Because, no, he wasn't falling for her. But he hated that this unworthy pretender got her. So he snarled unwise taunts instead. "You'll never be able to hold onto her. You couldn't even recognize when her polar opposite was stuck in her body." He sneered, watching, and loving, the look of anguish that flickered in his assailant's eyes. _At least he knows he screwed up._ "You had your taste of dark, Soldier Boy, maybe I just want a taste of light." He leered suggestively. Licked his lips. He even let his eyes drift to the bed, feeling suddenly safe that Riley would never believe anything could happen between the two of them. The more he piled it on, hinted at it, the more he'd run from the truth. That kind did. "_I'm_ the one who knows her." With a herculean effort he broke free and swept into the hall, out of reach of the sun. "But no, I'm not fallin' for your girl. Just happen to like her mum, don't want to kill her just now."

"You don't know anything about Buffy, you never did. _I'm_ the one who knows what she needs."

No more calculating anger, this was the real stuff, unfettered, uncontrolled. "Oh yeah? That's why you're with her at hospital right now, giving her what she needs? Where the bloody hell were you last night, all night, when she fuckin' needed someone to help her?"

"What are you talking about?" He was aghast, confused. "What- last night? Joyce?"

"Don't you know, didn't she tell you?" He thought she would've called him first- but no. No, he had known that she hadn't, he remembered asking her if she want to call Riley. And she had chosen him. For what, not sure, but it had been him all night, not Camo Boy. _Oh, hell. You've slipped again, Spike._

"You tell me." This didn't make sense, none of it. She didn't want to let him in, and yet, this wasn't big dangerous stuff. This was life stuff, sick moms, family things. Normal things! Normal things that he was actually equipped to handle, and who apparently spent the night? Spike.

"Her mum's sickly. Buffy took her to the hospital for a bit of prod 'n' probe. Bite-sized one, the li'l Bit, went too." His speech was ragged from the weight of all the conflicting emotions inside him. And the strongest one, the most basic one, came out. Hurt something, someone. Hurt this human, here, who was responsible for him having to resort to fightin' with words and not fangs and fists. "You know, it's-it's funny her not callin' you about that. I've known since last night." He tilted his head to look at him. "Wonder why she told me, an' not you?"

The punch knocked him head first down the stairs, but he only laughed. _Got him good._

"You think this is funny?" Riley glared at him, striding easily down to the fallen victim.

"I think it's funny that you didn't see it weeks ago." Spike snarled, glaring back, scooting himself off the ground. A heavy foot sent him back down. "Oh, that's right, manly man, hurt the poor beasty you de-fanged." He mocked.

"Why shouldn't I? Don't you want us dead? Aren't I just doing this world a favor?"

"Maybe the world. Not so much Buffy." He flicked out the statement with a knife edge in his voice.

"Why not? Don't you want to kill her? Huh? Or is something different now? Is there some_ reason_ you don't want to hurt her anymore?" Riley dragged him straight up the wall, fists digging into the smaller man's muscular shoulders, slamming him into the wood.

"No reason. Don't want to kill her just now." Spike croaked out. "Key words bein' 'just now'."

"So you still want to hurt her?" Why wasn't he more angry about that? He felt oddly relieved that Spike wanted to kill her. The alternative being too horrible to think about.

"Very much so." He snarled, shaking free. It'd be so much less complicated than finding her company odddly enjoyable. Feelin' some sort of strange bond with her. "But thanks to you, _I can't._" He paused, both men seething at one another. _I_ don't_ want to. I know what it's like, with her mum. I know what's comin', the strange prickle in my skin, that somethin' dark, darker than me, is hangin' over her, an' I don't like it. An' she's my equal. She's my match, my worthy enemy an' we've gotten to this odd impasse where I don't think we can finish the job. I don't think- I don't think I even wanna try..._

Fear swept through him. He didn't love her. He could not, ever,_ ever,_ love such a girl. But there was just this strange little feeling... respect, admiration, likability, mutual knowledge..._ I've got some odd, damned connection to her. An' I hate myself right now, ten thousand more times than I ever hated her, for feelin' it. But Christ, I do feel it._

The look the pale blonde gave him was raw, regretful, almost scared. Riley didn't understand it at all. "I can't hurt her." A gasp of realization. And then anger flared back into the ice blue eyes. Accusing, loathing, knowing. "An' don't _you_ hurt her, either, Soldier Boy._"_ A threat, snarled out so hard and fast, that Riley couldn't retort.

Spike ripped the blanket from the back of the chair he'd laid it on earlier, and bolted from the house, leaving Riley gaping after him.

* * *

><p>Buffy paced in front of the examining room, twisting her hands nervously. Dawn was curled up asleep in a chair. They were taking so long.<em> Why<em> were they taking so long? She stared at the door, willing it to open, for the doctor to come out, say everything is fine, and while we were in there, we found what made her hurt and we fixed it. She's all better. You can go home and everything will be just-

An unexpected hand on her shoulder caused her to whirl, see who came to be with her when she was in so much bottled up pain. "Riley." She sighed. Had she really just hoped for someone else?

"Sorry. I heard. I thought maybe you'd need-"_ me_? He didn't say that. But he felt some small reassurance as she hugged him.

"I do. I do. I'm glad." She released him, guilt flushing her cheeks. _I should've called him last night. I didn't though, did I?_ "I just, I-I didn't ... I mean, until we knew what it was..." Lying to him again. But at least she wasn't lying to herself anymore.

"I understand. How's she doing?"

"Well, she just had a CAT scan. I was about to go in and find out. Will you ... sit with Dawn while I talk to Mom? She's in the waiting room."

"Yeah, yeah, you got it." Don't you want me to sit with _you_?, he wanted to ask, but again, he didn't say that. He watched her set her shoulders and march in, march away from him.

* * *

><p>Riley sat, he pondered. He was in charge of the little sister. Grudgingly in charge. When he said he'd be there, he should have been more specific. He should have been there for her, the girlfriend. He didn't mind helping the family, but he wanted to help them, <em>as well<em>. Not _just _them. He wanted to help the woman he loved.

_Who doesn't love me. Dawn says I'm good for her. I'm her freaking vitamin. She wants to cry, she wants the crazy- does she want the dark?_ Images of Spike in her room shook him to the core. Two pillows. Two voices. Him standing there so at ease next to the pile of her clothes. All her clothes, bra, underwear included. _You don't know her. He said it. You admit it to yourself, but you deny it to him._ "_She has a type an' you're not it."_

_She wants dark? She's gonna get dark. She's had her bites. Dracula. Angel. The Master- whoever all these weirdos were. Maybe that's what I can't understand. Maybe that's what I don't get, why I can't understand her, or how she puts up with Spike._ He headed down to Willy's.

* * *

><p>Spike smoked. He drank. He slept. He damn near staked Harmony, but refused to talk to her, and eventually the chit left. News. News, there had to be some news by now. For the tenth time that day he got up, put his coat on, turned off the telly, and made for the sewers, planning to take the underground to her. <em>Not to <em>her_, idiot, to the news. Just to get the news._ And finally on the eleventh attempt, late, late in the day, he didn't just make the attempt, he slowly walked through the grime to get to the Summers' house.

* * *

><p>Buffy held it in. She was strong, even in the faces of her friends' comforting, their warm and loving embraces, urging her to let go. But she was strong. There was something she could do. Something she had to do. Fight this thing. The shadow, they called it. It wasn't a shadow, a shadow is a piece of darkness, and she wasn't afraid of the dark. She was a afraid of<em> this.<em>

They told her not to be concerned yet. Funny how it wasn't _the doctor's _mother with a brain tumor - that you don't need to worry about- yet.

Too many battles. They couldn't even deal with arguing over whether or not there might be some magical cure for this thing, because no, she had to fight the thing after Dawn. Oh, and God, she was glad to do it. It was bigger than her, and scarier than her, and it wanted to hurt someone she loved. She choked it to death, visualizing the "shadow" at the same time. "See? Look at me. I can kill you, even if you're scary, and nameless, faster, stronger, silent, and you want my baby sister's blood." _You want my mother's life._ "Sorry, snakey, you die."_ And with you, everything like you._

* * *

><p>The bite didn't help. Dusting her hadn't helped. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it, no matter how much he loved Buffy. He got the rush-but he didn't understand any better. Now all he was, was tainted. Now he had to hide it, changing into a turtleneck and hurrying back to the hospital.<p>

* * *

><p>Buffy watched, feeling pieces of her dying inside, as her mother told her sister the news. She stayed close, close enough to see them hugging, rocking and comforting each other, but far enough so that she couldn't hear them.<p>

"Buffy?" She turned to him, forcing a half smile. "You okay? You look pretty beat up."

She nodded. _Try. Try to do this with him. Try to let him in_. "Minimal damage of the fighting kind. It's all the other kind." That was the closest she'd get to telling him how bad it hurt.

"Come here." He held out his strong arms, and she walked into him. "It's okay. Just let it out. I'm right here." _Please let me get this right, do this right._

"I can't." She sniffled and pulled back. He'd almost had it. Right until he told her to let it out. He didn't get it. She couldn't let it out here. This was not alone. "Not now." She cast a weary glance to the hospital room, to her sick mother, her terrified little sister, trying to explain. "They need me. If I start now ... I won't be able to stop." She willed the tears away, willed him to understand. _Don't make me weak just now, not in front of them_. He lifted his hand to her face, a look of love and tenderness there that threatened to undo her, break her will and make her cry in earnest...

"Buffy?" Her mother needed her, called for her to join her and Dawn. She turned away from her boyfriend regretfully, wiping her eyes, the traces of her own fear. She didn't look back, leaving him standing there.

* * *

><p>It broke every unspoken rule, every unsigned truce, every code in every good or bad handbook. The vampire sat still in the pitch-black house, on the sweetly scented bed.<p>

* * *

><p>Her tears didn't begin until she touched the knob of her bedroom door. She was alone now. Now she could cry, and be scared, and no one would see, she wouldn't be letting anyone down.<p>

"Buffy."

She choked on a sob and flashed the light on, a stake already in her hand. "Spike!" Exasperation, annoyance, and a teensy little kernel of relief.

"Your mum. I just wanted to know, an' then I'll be on my way, alright?" _Thank God she hadn't been packing a crossbow, only a stake, or you'd be in some vacuum bag b'fore you blink._

"It's bad." Her face crumpled.

He struggled not to lose himself in her grief, in his memories. "I- Can I do anything?"

"No. No, I don't think so." She let her tears fall. She wasn't with someone, not with him. She was with the other side of herself, however that worked out in her tangled mind.

"I'll leave you to it then." He whispered, hesitantly reaching to pat her shaking arm. _If I touch her, what's gonna happen this time?_

She crashed into him, knocking him flat, sobbing suddenly in his arms as they lay on the floor. "I don't know how to fight it."

"I know, I know." And he did. He kissed her brow, held her little fluttering form close, willing the heartbeat not to speed up any more.

"I can't fight it. I can't fight it, they say it isn't magical, and I can only fight the things I can hit, I can't fight it." She was about to hyperventilate.

"Know how you feel." He said quietly, looking at his useless hands.

He would know. He would know exactly how it felt to be crippled like this, to have a massive power that was completely useless on the one thing you wanted to use it against. To be chipped. "You do know." She stared at him, eyes clearing. "You do know. And you survived."

"You are getting strangely perceptive, Slayer, an' I'm not sure I like it." He sat them up.

"Tell me how you fight it, how to survive it, the- the being- unable to fight."

"I don't know how I do it. Part of it's you." He swallowed. "Not killin' me, though you can."

"What's the rest of it?"

"Sheer bloody stubbornness." He traced a tear swollen eye. "You've got that it in spades."

"What am I going to do?" She whispered. She felt awful. Helpless. She hadn't felt truly helpless in years.

"Stay strong an' carry on." He shrugged. _I'm a Brit, I do what I gotta, this would be so much more simple if she wasn't American, used to girly mag advice._

"I like that." She said after a moment.

"Except when you're alone. Then get it out, get it all out as much as you can, to see you through the day when you've got to deal with the rest of the odds an' sods. An' then at night, or when you're alone, you empty it all back out again. Like the sea, Slayer, a tide of tears."

"Stand by for a flood watch, then, 'cause it has been one hell of a day." She sighed. He stood, and she struggled up beside him.

"Right. I'll leave you alone, then." He clutched her hand in his for second and pulled away.

Her fingers wouldn't release. "I am alone. When you're just with a reflection of yourself, you're not really _with_ anyone, are you?"

"No." He said slowly, letting her pull him beside her onto the bed. Her wet, warm cheek brushed his cool one. "Buffy, Luv, what is this?"

"I don't know." She didn't.

"Well, as long as we're both clueless..." He shrugged out of his duster with one free arm, the other still holding her stubbornly unyielding hand.

She cried for a little bit, then they undressed, kissing, softly talking, silent at times, moaning at others, as they soothed each other's worries.

* * *

><p>They lay, side by side, face to face staring at one another. Unblinking. Unbelieving. It had happened again. Third time's the charm, but there was nothing charmed about this.<p>

"What _is_ this?" This time she asked, in a deeply puzzled voice, almost a disgusted voice. But yet her hand was still resting on his hip, the mirror image of him, as his hand cupped one smooth golden curve, their arms crisscrossing in the small space between their spent bodies.

As if he bloody knew. _Come here yesterday to kill her, end up feelin' closer to her than I've felt to anyone but Dru. Still can't stand her half the time, and yet wanna be with her the other half. An' oddly enough, I think she feels the same._ "Well, Luv..." Spike sighed and shook his head, "I think this must be the flip side."

* * *

><p><em>This concludes our drama in four acts. I do hope you enjoyed, let me know if you did.<em>


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